


The Dream Becomes the Man

by Theatregirl7299



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mild torture, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatregirl7299/pseuds/Theatregirl7299
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year 2033, the Militia, under the command of Imperator Peter Burke, keeps the peace and order in the city of New York.   He believes his life is complete with his beautiful wife, Elizabeth, despite the marriage laws that require them to take a third spouse.  When a con man with a special Talent and a dark secret appears, will more than Peter's heart be at risk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dream Becomes the Man

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This story has been in the works since January, 2013 when I re-read elrhiarhodan’s **([Vampire World: The Blood of Helios](http://elrhiarhodan.dreamwidth.org/19413.html#cutid10) )**. I told myself I wanted to write a story like that, and this is the result. 
> 
> I have lots of thank yous: First and foremost to to my wonderful artist, elrhiarhodan for the cover and icons and playlist (I’ve got a playlist!). Not only is she a fantastic author but a fantastic artist and beta reader as well. 
> 
> Miri_Thompson’s critiques and comments made this a better piece. She made me think outside my outline and for that I am immensely grateful.
> 
> Embroiderama and Angel get special thanks for listening to me whine about deadlines and plot devices and generally holding my hand throughout this whole thing. Ladies – I could not have done it without you. 
> 
> And finally to everyone who hangs out in wcwu chat. Thank you - our Word Wars made this story happen. 
> 
> Legal statement - I don’t own White Collar or the characters portrayed therein. White Collar is the property of Fox Television Studios and USA Networks.

 

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
  
  
_Planning his escape was easy. In theory, all it would take would be a greedy guard, a set of smuggled lockpicks and his ability to borrow anyone’s Talent that he needed.  
  
Executing it – not so much.   
  
When the opportunity came, he ran. And the Militia chased.  
  
His invisible man act failed twenty feet outside the main door when the Talent he stole dissipated, revealing him to the perimeter guards and cameras.   
  
Breath harsh in his chest, heart pounding, he ducked and wove in between buildings, trying to put as much distance from his pursuers as he could.  
  
His feet pounded on the cement sidewalk, the word  **run**  echoing like a mantra in his brain.  
  
If they caught him, he was not going back to the room that had been his prison for three years. He was not going back to Kramer.   
  
If they caught him he intended to die, either by his hand or theirs.   
  
If they caught him…   
  
“Neal!” The voice came out of the darkness. He veered towards it, praying that there was enough time to disappear into the murk.  
  
Luck was with him. Hiding in the gloom, he watched the agents swarm past. Closing his eyes, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was not going to die today.   
  
A hand touched his shoulder. Mozzie. That slight gesture more welcome than a bone-crushing hug.  
  
“C’mon. We need to go before they double back.”   
  
“Can we make it out of the city?”   
  
“It’ll be tough. I set up a trail that has you heading south towards Cuba. Can’t guarantee how well it’ll hold up.”  
  
“So where are we going?”  
  
“New York City.”  
  
“You sure that’s a good idea?”  
  
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a friend in the Big Apple who will help us.” Mozzie grabbed his arm and they melted into the shadows.   
  
Three days later they were standing in the marbled entranceway of 87 Riverside Drive.   
  
The mansion was exquisite. The doorman had shown them into the parlor and asked if they would like some iced tea. Neal was amazed and a little bit shocked at their treatment. Having left Washington DC in a hurry, they’d barely had time to grab their cache before the Militia was hot on their tail. Several nights sleeping in abandoned buildings with no shower facilities hadn’t left them looking or smelling like someone he’d want to be gracing their Queen Anne Revival sofa. But the staff had acted like it was nothing that two men, not very well dressed, had appeared on the doorstep asking for the lady of the house.  
  
His first sight of June took his breath away. Elegance personified, she descended the massive staircase in what obviously was a vintage Chanel original. Her smile immediately put him at ease as did the fact that she greeted them like they both were old friends. Mozzie even stood for a hug, which went a long way in increasing Neal’s estimation of her. Mozzie was a germaphobe and never touched anyone if he could help it.   
  
Then she shocked him.  
  
June had taken his hand in hers. Neal was surprised. He knew Mozzie had told her about what he could do. Most people who knew about Neal’s ability to take their Talent were afraid to touch him, fearing that he would permanently strip them of their skills.   
  
June just smiled at him, guessing what was on his mind. “I can see the future, dear. That’s  **my**  skill. I know you – borrow – other people’s Talents, Neal. And I know that you can control when you do that. I’ve also ‘seen’ that you don’t abuse your skills.” She winked at him. “Much.” She pulled him in for his own hug. It had been the first time someone had held him of their own free will in months. That, coupled with the stress and exhaustion of the last several days, almost made him break down.   
  
“Come. I’ve got a small guestroom you can use. It’s not much, but I think it will work for what you need.”   
  
Then she brought them to the top of the world.   
  
Opening the door to the “little guestroom”, she ushered them in. The room took Neal’s breath away. Light and airy, floor to ceiling French doors leading to a million dollar view of the City, it was more than he could have dreamed for. Giving them the tour, she revealed the extras that made the space unique. Spread throughout the room were hidden niches, perfect for storing passports and fake IDs. The crowning feature was the two-way mirror over the fireplace.   
  
“This used to be a speakeasy and poker den,” she explained with a twinkle in her eye. “Byron and I watched many a game from this closet.”  
  
June proceeded to shock Neal even more. She looked at Neal as though she were measuring him. “Neal, darling, I do believe you are about the same build as my Byron. I’ve got all these suits of his just sitting here gathering dust. It would do an old lady’s heart good if you would wear them.” She removed a jacket from one of the hangers and held it out for Neal to try on. “Byron wore this one every time we went dancing.”  
  
He slipped his arms into it and let it settle on his shoulders. If it wasn’t a perfect fit, it was damn near close. Neal could tell by the weight of the fabric and the feel of the lining that this wasn’t some off the rack item. No, this was a custom job. He flipped the jacket open to read the tag.   
  
Devore.  
  
“June – this is a Devore.” He gaped at her. “I – I can’t take this…”   
  
“Nonsense.” She brushed a bit of lint off the sleeve and adjusted the fit. “I have a closet of these taking up space. Wear them. Please?”   
  
Neal saw her eyes cloud over, as though she was lost in another time, another memory. “I’d be honored to wear this, June,” he said softly. “Thank you.”   
  
For the first time in a long while, he felt loved._

 

 

@*@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
“Neal, what happened to the Barolo?” The short, balding man pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose as he searched for the missing bottle of wine.  
  
“Moz, don’t you remember? You drank it all last night.” Neal grinned at his partner in crime and returned to his web search.  
  
Mozzie sighed and studied the wine rack, finally settling on a mid-range Cabernet. “I guess this will have to do.” Walking to the kitchen counter, he deftly uncorked the bottle and poured himself a glass. Raising an eyebrow at Neal he silently asked if he wanted some.  
  
“Yeah, I could use one. This search is not coming easily.” Neal pushed the laptop away and ran a hand through his dark hair. He took the glass Mozzie brought to the table and took a sip. “Mmm, nice.”  
  
“Yeah, June has a good cellar.” Mozzie sat down next to him. “So what’s going on that you’re having problems?”  
  
“Can’t find building plans for Harrison’s townhouse. We may have to do a physical recon.” They’d gotten a “request” from one of Mozzie’s contacts for a Faberge egg that Harrison had in his collection. The buyer was willing to pay top dollar for it.   
  
“Mozzie huffed and gestured for the computer. “Give it here.”   
  
Neal watched as Mozzie’s fingers flew across the keys. He didn’t want to know what sites he was using to access the information. He was just happy that the little guy was on his side.  
  
Neal’s eyes scanned the room as he sipped his wine. They were lucky to have this place.   
Perfect for Neal’s needs, really. Mozzie wasn’t the type to stay in one place very long and had set up several safehouses that he rotated through the week. Most of the time, though, he wound up spending a couple of nights on Neal’s couch, but always claimed he was a free spirit and couldn’t be tied down.  
  
“Hah!” Mozzie smacked the table in success. “Got it!” He flipped the laptop around for Neal to see. Blueprints for Harrison’s townhouse were on the screen. “These are the most recent. You can see where he built the display room.” Mozzie pointed to a location in the middle of the plans. “The idiots even put the second entrance in there.”  
  
Neal studied the plans. “Ok, any luck on security?”  
  
“Of course!” Mozzie grabbed his satchel and pulled out some crumpled papers. “The Sentry IX V3.0. State of the art.” He grinned. “But with one major flaw in the version Harrison installed. The battery backup has a tendency to fail if there is a power bump.”   
  
“And you can make that happen?”   
  
Mozzie looked at Neal like he had three heads. “Hello? Why do you think I’ve been buying all this Russian surplus?”  
  
Neal laughed. “I thought it was to decorate Friday.” Mozzie snorted. “Ok then, let’s start planning.”  
  
They were arguing about entry points when there was a knock at the door. Neal got up to answer it. June was standing there with a smile on her face and a tray of what looked like homemade sandwiches.   
  
“Can I come in?” She grinned impishly, sailed right past the conman with Bugsy, her pug, at her heels and placed the tray on the table. Neal was always amazed at how put together she looked, her loungewear complimenting her café au lait skin. “I thought you boys might be hungry, what with planning to ransack Nigel Harrison’s place and all.”  
  
“How…?” Mozzie sputtered and stared at Neal.  
  
“Hey, I didn’t tell her.” He closed the door, sauntered back to the table and took one of the sandwiches off the tray. Biting into it, he groaned in appreciation at the taste.  
  
“Mozzie my dear, you keep underestimating my Talent.” Taking a seat, she picked Bugsy up and placed him on her lap. “I got a premonition that might help with a snag you’re going to run into, so I thought I’d come up and see how far along you are. Plus Byron always said planning a good heist is always made better with good food.”  
  
She gestured to the sandwiches. “The ones on the left are for you, Mozzie – no cheese.”  
  
“Thanks, June.” His ruffled feathers soothed, Mozzie took a half and a napkin. “What’d you see?”  
  
“Neal, Harrison’s maid is going to call in sick that day. For your Transference, you’ll need find someone else to get the Veiling Talent from. So you’re going to need to either move the job up a day or wait to execute it three days later.”   
  
Neal considered her words. He knew her Talent at foreshadowing had been a big help to them when they first came to the city. He quickly came up with and discarded several ideas based on her information.   
  
“Neal…. _Neal_ …earth to Neal.” Mozzie was snapping his fingers in front of his face.  
  
“What? Sorry. Just thinking.”   
  
“Well think out loud. We need to figure out what to do about this.” Mozzie took a bite of his sandwich and washed it down with a gulp of wine.  
  
“June, did you see anything else that would give us an idea if we should go later or earlier?”   
  
June closed her eyes. The two men waited as she stilled, the only movement was her hands running through Bugsy’s fur. She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, nothing.”  
  
“So it’s a crapshoot.” Mozzie sounded disgusted.   
  
Neal glared at him. “Be nice.”  
  
“Sorry.” He mumbled.  
  
“I say we wait the three days. It’ll give me more time to find a touch source and you can make sure Rusty is set up to fence the egg.”   
  
“He’s ready!” Mozzie frowned at him.  
  
“Moz, the last time he said he was ready, he short circuited and was unconscious for a week.”  
  
Mozzie glared at him, even though he knew Neal was right.  
  
“Just promise me you’ll tell him not to touch any live wires before Thursday.”  
  
“Better a broken promise than none at all.” Mozzie finished off his glass and gestured for Neal to fill it again.  
  
“Mark Twain!” June clapped her hands in delight.  
  
Neal sighed. He could tell it was going to be a long afternoon.

 

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
“This session of the Central Court is now called to order. All rise for the esteemed Imperator.”  
  
The crowd hushed as the tall man entered the courtroom. Seating himself at the wooden dais, he began to look over the cases of the day. Long, lean and dressed in Armani black, his brown hair cut regulation short, he exuded a quiet sense of power. Those that had never met him always wondered why the citizens of New York City spoke his name in hushed tones. Those that had, spoke of him with awe.   
  
And those that faced him in the Central Court wished they had never laid eyes on him at all.   
  
The crowd was made up of law enforcement officials, legal types, those charged, along with their families and, of course, the regular spectators who had nothing else on their plate that day and wanted to watch the great Imperator in action.   
  
He never handled the smaller cases. Those were farmed out to his legal staff because there were entirely too many (in his opinion) and he would be in court all day, every day if he took them on. No, he got the harder ones – murder, major theft and the occasional art crime or forgery to keep his hand in.   
  
Peter Burke, former Head of the FBI’s White Collar division, now Imperator of the Regional Government of New York City, closed the file he was perusing and spoke.  
  
“Let’s begin.”

 

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Eight hours and six cases later, the day was done. Which was fine with Peter. He was starting to develop a headache. _How can some people be this stupid,_  he wondered as he prepared to hand out the verdict for a man that had stolen food from the Central Storehouse to sell on the black market and in the process had killed one of his agents.   
  
There was no need to steal – after The Pandemic there was plenty of food, even if it was regulated by the Government. But the man was an Outlier; not from Manhattan. The food supplies were more fickle the farther one got from the City, and all the thief saw was the bounty that the residents enjoyed and a quick way to make a buck. Because of that, Agent Joseph Fiorentino’s children would grow up without a father.   
  
Peter still held the belief that a man was guilty until proven innocent. But he also subscribed to the thought that if you were guilty, you paid for your crimes. The man had come in to his city, stolen from him and murdered one of his people. Peter would make sure that justice was served accordingly. He nodded to the Bailiff.   
  
“Mr. Bezrukov, please rise and face the Court.”  
  
Peter gazed at the man standing behind the defendant’s table. “Anton Bezrukov, you stand before this Court charged with the murder of a Regional Militia Agent.” The defendant paled as Peter’s voice echoed throughout the courtroom. “The evidence has been presented and the Court finds you guilty as charged on one count of involuntary manslaughter. According to the laws of the Regional Government of the Island of Manhattan, you are sentenced to twenty-five years in Five Points.”  
  
A gasp came from the seats behind the defendant’s table as Bezrukov’s family heard the verdict. Bezrukov’s wife began crying hysterically and an older man started shouting. Peter banged his gavel, attempting to restore order.   
  
“Guards clear the courtroom!” Peter waited until the family had been removed before continuing. “Mr. Bezrukov, I suggest you use your time in Five Points to its fullest benefit. Bailiff, please escort the defendant to holding. Court is adjourned.” 

 

 

@*@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
The sounds of the Court were silenced by the closing of Peter’s office door. It was the best thing he had heard all day. He took off his jacket and hung it on a hanger in the small closet. Falling into his chair, he threw his glasses onto the desk and tiredly rubbed his face.   
  
 _Now I know why Hughes kept a flask in his desk._  Peter thought fondly of his old boss.  _Lucky bastard._  He smiled as he glanced at the picture of the two of them at Hughes’ retirement party.  _No wonder he looks so happy. He was handing all this crap to me._  
  
What he wouldn’t give for a beer. Hell, a cup of coffee would do right now. Something. He looked at the clock. 5:30 p.m. He needed to call Elizabeth. As he dug in his pocket for his phone, there was a knock on the door.  
  
 _Crap, what now?_  
  
“C’mon in.” Peter knew he sounded cranky but a little part of him felt he was entitled to it.  
  
“Hey Boss.” Diana Berrigan and Clinton Jones entered with matching smiles. “How was Court?”  
  
“Same as always. No one did anything wrong, and if you don’t believe them, ask their sister.” His two agents chuckled. “What I wouldn’t give for a beer.”  
  
“Would coffee do?” Diana pulled a cup from the local specialty coffee shop from behind her back. “Italian Roast.”  
  
“God, I love you!” Peter grabbed the cup and took a long drink. Sighing in pleasure, he grinned at Diana. “You know you’re my favorite.”  
  
“Hey now!” Jones protested. “I brought those bearclaws you like.” He tossed the bag on the desk and sat down. Peter dug into the bag for a pastry.  
  
“I take that back. You both are my favorites. Especially if you don’t tell Elizabeth about this.” He took a bite, crumbs flaking down the front of his shirt.  
  
“She’s got you back on the diet again?” Jones looked at him sympathetically. Elizabeth was known to deny Peter his deviled ham on occasion.  
  
“Yeah, the results from my physical came back and my cholesterol was high. So no sweets.” His eyes closed. “But God this is good.”  
  
“Just make sure you clean off the front of your shirt. Elizabeth is a better investigator than we are.” Diana perched on the edge of the credenza. “You ready to head back to the office after your snack?” Peter raised an eyebrow at her cheeky tone.  
  
“I’m not in kindergarten. This is not juice and cookie time.” Peter tried to give her a stern look, but failed. Grinning, he licked the sugar glaze off his fingers and brushed the crumbs off his shirt. Standing up, he shrugged on his jacket and picked up his coffee. “Let’s head back so I can get some  _real_  work done.”  
  
The distance between the Court and the office made for a nice walk. Occasionally they would get stopped by law enforcement as well as civilians who wanted a word with Peter. Several times people just wanted to shake his hand and tell him what a wonderful job he was doing. He thanked them courteously but there was always a bit of embarrassment behind his smile. As far as he was concerned, he was just doing his job. No thanks necessary.  
  
“Okay, where were we?” Peter asked after he shook the hand of an elderly man.   
  
“Talent registration.” Diana pulled out her Blackberry and punched a few buttons. “Bernike sent you the latest figures yesterday.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. I haven’t read them.” Some days Peter wished cloning were legal so he wouldn’t have to deal with the minutiae of running a Regional Government.  
  
“That’s why he sent them to me, too. Registrations are up fifteen percent this quarter. Seems as though the media campaign is working.”  
  
“Good. One less thing for me to worry about.” Peter sidestepped a couple and turned to Jones. “Where are we on recruitment?”  
  
“Donner says we’ve got a six-month waiting list for Militia recruits. Seems as though you’re a popular guy. Everybody wants to work for you. Little do they know.” Jones flashed a grin at his boss.  
  
“Keep that attitude and I’ll put you on Mortgage Fraud for a month.”   
  
“Ohh, I’m scared.”   
  
“Smart ass. Guess that means you won’t be invited over for dinner tonight.” Peter chuckled, knowing he’d played the trump card. Jones never turned down an invitation to the house for dinner.  
  
“I take back everything I’ve ever said. What’s on the menu?”   
  
“Don’t know. Haven’t called El to tell her you guys are coming over.”  
  
They arrived at Peter’s main offices. He’d had his choice of buildings when he was elected but preferred to be in the old FBI building. It was more secure, plus he was comfortable there. He’d even kept his own office, allowing Diana to move into Hughes’ when he retired.  
  
Pressing the “UP” button, he sighed and turned to his agents. “I just need a night where all I do is look at case files. None of this extra stuff we have to deal with. So I figured dinner and beers and a couple boxes out on the back porch.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan.” Diana held the elevator door so the people could exit then the three of them stepped on. She pressed the button for the 21st floor. “Should we bring anything?”  
  
“Let me check with Elizabeth.” Peter quickly dialed his wife. Moments later she picked up the phone.   
  
“Hey, hon. How was Court?”  
  
“Long and brutal.” Peter smiled, happy to hear her voice. “Listen, I invited Jones and Diana over for a working dinner. We don’t have any other plans, do we?”  
  
“No, we’re good.” He could hear Elizabeth shuffling papers around. “Anything particular thing you want to eat?”  
  
“Real food.” That was Peter’s code for something that he could pronounce.  
  
“Elizabeth chuckled. “That bad of a day?”  
  
“You don’t know the half of it. Does anyone need to bring anything?” The elevator dinged for their floor and the three of them stepped out.  
  
“Nope. I’ll just swing by Union Square Market on my way home and grab a few things. What time?”   
  
“We should be wrapped up in about an hour, so does 7:30 work?” He shook his head at his agents, letting them know nothing was needed. “I’m just going to check in and we’ll get some files boxed up and ready to go.”  
  
“Sounds perfect. See you at home. Love you, hon.”  
  
“Love you, too, hon.” He hung up as they walked into the main office.  
  
“So what’s for dinner?” Jones asked with a smile. Peter realized that Elizabeth never told him what they were having.  
  
“Does it matter?” Diana looked at him askance. “Elizabeth is cooking.”  
  
“True enough. So what files do you want, Peter?”  
  
“Let’s get the Michelson and Anderson loan scandals.” Peter headed up the stairs to his office. “I also need to get up to speed on the theft at the Smithson House. Oh, and any new files that have come in this week.”  
  
A half hour later he was neck deep in emails when Diana knocked on his door. “C’mon in. I’m almost done wading through this schlock.”  
  
“Boss, have you gotten to the one from Martinez yet?” Diana had a sober look on her face.  
  
“No, what does he want now? Another press conference to splash my face across the television?” Peter ran his hands through his hair, leaving it ruffled. “God I hate politics!”  
  
“Read it.”  
  
He scrolled down until he saw the email from Martinez and clicked on it.  
  
__________________________________________________________

From: DMartinez@NYCity.gov  
To: PBurke@NYCity.gov  
Subject: Marriage Law Concerns  
Date: July 10, 2033 at 10:12 AM  
CC: DBerrigan@NYCity.gov  
  
  
Peter,   
  
I know today is Court but I felt I needed to share some disturbing information that has come to my attention.  
  
It seems as though a small but vocal minority has been questioning your reluctance to follow the Marriage Law by not accepting a Third. While insignificant at this time, they appear to be gaining momentum within the City as well as the attention of several media outlets.  
  
I know yours and Elizabeth’s feelings on the subject, but with the failing of the referendum vote, now is not the time to make waves with your re-nomination less than eighteen months away.   
  
We need to set a meeting as soon as possible to determine how we want to handle this. (Diana make sure this gets on Peter’s calendar.)  
  
David Martinez  
Public Information Officer  
Regional Government of New York City  
_____________________________________________________  
  
“My God, don’t these people ever stop?” Peter groaned and rubbed his hands across his face. “I swear I’m just going to pack it in, move upstate and raise horses!” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment.   
  
“I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this, Boss.” Peter knew Diana was sympathetic to the situation.  
  
“Di, I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal.” He huffed in frustration. “I know that the Law says we need to have a Third, but -.” He stopped himself when Diana shushed him. “Yeah, maybe not the best place to talk about this.”   
  
“You think?”  
  
He was relieved when Jones stuck his head in the door. “Files are packed. You ready to head out?”  
  
Peter smiled at them like a kid escaping detention. “More than ready.”   
  
As he gathered up the few items he wanted to take home with him, he knew that he was going to have to deal with the issue fairly soon. Just not right now. 

 

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
Neal knew if he stopped it would be all over. Mozzie had ducked down the nearest subway stairs and melted into the throng of commuters, but Neal hadn’t been so lucky. Twisting and dodging pedestrians, he ran across the street, almost getting run over by the taxis that always seemed to run the lights.  
  
Taking a quick look behind him, he saw his pursuers gaining.  _Crap!_  Scanning the available escape routes as he ran, he realized he was close to the Union Square Market.   
  
 _Crowds…perfect!_  
  
Sliding past a couple with a baby stroller, he dashed through the entrance to the Market and looked around for a place to hide.  _There!_  Across the way was a gardening stall with young trees in black plastic buckets. Slowing down to a walk so as not to attract attention, Neal made his way to the area in question. Ducking behind a booth selling shrubbery, he chanced a look to see if the men who were chasing him had discovered his hiding place.   
  
They had followed him into the Market but it was obvious they had lost him. One spoke to the other as they searched the area. Neal moved deeper among the foliage, keeping his face as hidden as much as he could while still watching his pursuers.   
  
Luckily for him, the Militia were easy to spot. Bad suits, brush haircuts, regulation sunglasses. Neal sighed. Sometimes they made it too easy, and that spoiled the fun.   
  
After a few minutes, the men had given up and left the area. Giving them a few more moments, just in case they came back, Neal caught his breath and felt for the small Faberge egg in his pocket.  
  
He knew the colors: royal blue and gold. With a smile a mile wide, his fingers caressed the elaborate gold-work and jewels. It would definitely give him and Mozzie enough cash buy some cover property Moz claimed they needed, plus pay June back for some of the front money she had given them.   
  
They had their eye on a space that Mozzie had found through a friend of a friend of a friend - a bakery in need of new management. Using Steve Tabernacle, they planned on finalizing the deal as soon as Rusty fenced the egg.  
  
But they almost lost their chance at the egg. Neal nearly got caught, and he couldn’t figure out how. Somehow the Imperator’s men had gotten wind of their attempt on Harrison’s townhouse.   
  
They’d gotten in, no problem. Neal had found a Veiling Talent – one of the hookers in Midtown. A quick touch as he asked her what she charged gave him what he needed to get past the security guards and staff. Mozzie’s power boost fried the backup battery and Neal was able to lift the egg and slip out the service entrance.  
  
That’s when it got hairy. Agents were rounding the corner just as Neal was hopping the fence and immediately gave chase. The Veiling Talent failed -  _at that moment_  - and Neal ran.   
  
Confirming that his pursuers were truly gone, Neal slid out from behind the trees and made his way through the market. He had an hour before he could safely return to the backup location that Mozzie had set up for emergencies, so he meandered through the stalls looking for items he could bring home for dinner.   
  
He figured he’d head towards Antoni’s and pick up some Grueyere to go with the baguette he knew was back at June’s. Mozzie would whine about being lactose intolerant, but he didn’t have to eat it. On the way home he’d stop and get him some Genoa salami as a peace offering.  
  
As he passed by the flower sellers, a tub of tiger lilies caught his eye. Neal stopped to admire them. Mozzie laughed at him when he brought flowers home, saying that Neal was too much of a romantic, but when the current bouquet was dying, he always asked when Neal was going to the market.  
  
He chose several of the lilies, paired them with some hyacinth and ferns and gave them to the florist to wrap up. As he was waiting, he looked around the market, scoping to see if there was a quick pocket to be picked.  
  
What he saw made him freeze, his breath catching in his chest.   
  
She was standing in a ray of sunlight. If he were a religious man, he would swear the angels were smiling down on her.  
  
Deep, brown hair spilling down her shoulders, casting shadows across her face. He counted at least a dozen shades, everything from chocolate to mahogany to mink to coffee.  
  
Her hands, tiny and beautifully manicured in a soft pink, gestured to the shopkeeper, pointing out her request. For a split second he imagined those hands running over his chest, gripping his shoulders as he thrust himself into her.   
  
 _Shit, where did THAT come from?_  Neal mentally shook himself. He hadn’t had an instinctive reaction like that to someone since before DC. He hadn’t let himself.  
  
Blindly accepting his change and the flowers from the vendor, he slowly approached her, circling around so he could observe her more closely.  
  
She was beautiful from every angle. Her figure, soft and curved in all the right places, begged to be captured on canvas. His fingers itched to touch her, position her to his liking so he could take up his brushes and immortalize her.  
  
She was his Muse.  
  
Never taking his eyes off her, he grabbed a notecard and a pen from a nearby vendor. With a few deft folds and a scribble he had what he needed.  
Moving into her radius, he prepared to introduce himself when he heard a shout. Whirling around, he saw the Militia agents who had chased him into the Market.  
  
 _Damn! Not NOW!_  
  
Brushing past her, he caught a glimpse of cerulean blue eyes and heard her startled gasp. He dropped his creation in her purse, gave her a dazzling smile and melted into the crowd.  
  
Whoever she was, he was enthralled. And determined to find out more about her, however he could. 

 

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
Union Square in the summer was always a joy, Elizabeth thought. Especially the Market with their abundance of fresh produce, dairy and assorted foodstuffs. Stalls full of summer squash, tomatoes, bell peppers, cucumbers. Exotic cheeses. Teas and herbs. Homemade breads. She loved it all.   
  
When Peter had called her to tell her that he had invited Diana and Clinton to the house for a working meal, she thought it would be a perfect excuse to indulge herself and pick up some items for dinner. She decided on a menu of Caprese salad, steaks that her sister had shipped to them and fresh fruit salad for dessert. Her mouth watered just thinking about the strawberries and blueberries she had in her basket.   
  
As she sorted through the cornucopia of offerings, she caught glimpses of the hands that had touched each item. The tanned skin of the citrus fruit pickers in Florida, the teamsters hauling the vegetables from Pennsylvania, the bakers from her own Brooklyn kneading the dough for the baguettes she had in her bag.  
  
Normally she kept her Talent muted, because it could get pretty busy if she kept reading everything she touched, but on days like this it was almost like a mini travelogue in the back of her brain.  
  
Strolling through the aisles, she looked for the best batches of spinach and the biggest red onions. She paused at MacNamara’s Produce to say hello to Mitch.  
  
“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Burke?” the wizened man said with a smile.   
  
“I’m making Caprese salad tonight, Mitch,” Elizabeth smiled back. He was one of her favorite people in the Market and she never failed to stop by his stall even if she wasn’t buying anything. “What’s your spinach look like today?”  
  
“You’re in luck.” Mitch pulled a head of deep green leaves from the display. “Just got this in from the farm upstate. Picked this morning.”  
  
Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed at the vegetable. “That’s perfect, Mitch, I’ll take two.” She pulled out her wallet and gave him ten dollars. While she waited for her change, she felt a prickle on the back of her neck and felt a sharp pain above her right eye. Her eyes teared up and her mind caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man running through the Market. The vision quickly dissipated but her headache remained.  
  
 _Strange._  She’d felt her Talent kick in, but she wasn’t touching anything that would have given her a vision of anyone running.  
  
“Mrs. Burke?” Mitch’s voice brought her back to the present. He was standing there patiently, waiting to give her the change.  
  
“Oh, thank you.” Elizabeth took her change and put the spinach in her bag.  
  
“If you need the mozzarella to go with the salad, try Antoni’s in the next row. I saw him unload fresh about an hour ago.”   
  
“Thanks Mitch. Say hi to your wife for me.” Elizabeth quickly headed to the dairy farmer’s booth that Mitch recommended. She glanced around, wondering if maybe something in her basket might have triggered what she saw. Not seeing anyone who remotely looked like the man in her vision, she dismissed the thought and concentrated on choosing the cheese she needed.   
  
Mitch was right, she thought a short time later. The mozzarella looked fantastic. As she waited her turn in line, the prickling on her neck returned, only stronger this time.   
  
 _Someone was watching her._  
  
Furtively looking around, she surveyed the Market. Mothers with their children. Young couples, shopping bags in hand. Elderly folk walking slowly through the aisles. All normal everyday behavior. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being observed. Her headache worsened.   
  
She shivered and pulled her jacket closer, but the feeling grew. She closed her eyes and focused. The feeling was coming from her left. Rifling through her purse as though she was looking for something, she let her hair fall in front of her face to hide her eyes. Glancing through the strands, she risked a quick look the direction of her feeling.  
  
Standing at the flower stall was a man. Dressed simply, he wore a navy blue three-button Henley that brought out the ocean blue of his eyes. Elizabeth could tell it was silk by the way it clung to his chest. Dark grey jeans just snug enough to highlight his well toned body ended in well worn black leather boots. Thick wavy brown hair that begged to have a lover’s hands run through it. And a face – a face that was impossibly perfect. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.  
  
And he was looking at her.  
  
Blushing, Elizabeth looked away, hoping the man had not noticed her observing him. She kept her face hidden as she pointed out the piece of cheese she wanted from the seller. She could barely concentrate - the proximity of the man blocked out any other pings she was getting from the items she was holding.  
  
Elizabeth was frightened. Her Talent had never manifested this way before. She could sense him coming towards her, her mind showing her exactly how he approached, sensual and stalking – he the hunter, she the prey. She felt a frisson of desire cut through the fear.   
  
 _Oh God, he was right there…_  She could smell him. Not cologne – him. Musky and warm from where he had been running.  
  
He was about to touch her when she heard shouting. Several Militia agents were hurrying toward them. He moved past her, their bodies brushing briefly. Gasping, she looked up at him. He smiled at her, promising everything yet offering nothing, as he disappeared into the crowd.   
  
One of the agents stopped next to her while the other one kept up the pursuit. When he realized who she was, he made sure she was unharmed.   
  
“Mrs. Burke, are you okay?”   
  
“I’m – I’m fine Agent Jensen,” she replied, reading his name badge.  
  
“Do you know that man?” the agent asked.   
  
“No, actually I don’t.” And even if she did, she wouldn’t have told the agent that. “He just bumped into me right when I heard you shout. What did he do?”  
  
“He’s believed to have robbed a townhouse nearby.”  
  
“Well, I hope you catch him.” Elizabeth hoped nothing of the sort.  
  
“Um…Mrs. Burke, I hate to ask, but I’m going to need to look in your purse and bags to make sure he didn’t drop anything in them.” The agent looked uncomfortable making the request.  
  
“I understand.” Elizabeth smiled at him, which made him turn pink with embarrassment. “Let’s start with the grocery bag.”  
  
The agent found nothing in the bag of produce and bread and handed it back to her. She gave him her purse and he looked through it quickly.  
  
“Um, Mrs. Burke, what’s this?” he held up a folded piece of note paper. Elizabeth had never seen it, and she felt certain that the man had dropped it into her purse when he brushed past her. She also couldn’t explain why she had the feeling that it was important she not give away any information about the man who had smiled at her.  
  
“Oh, that’s just something I’m working on for a client.” She held out her hand and the agent placed it in her palm. She shoved it in her pocket. “Did he drop anything in there?”  
  
“Doesn’t look like it. Sorry to have bothered you.” The agent gave Elizabeth back her purse as his partner returned empty handed and huffing.   
  
“I lost him in the landscaping stalls. Oh, hey Mrs. Burke. You okay?” he said, recognizing her.  
  
“Yeah, Johnny, I’m fine. Sorry you lost him.”  
  
“Eh, we’ll get him. Those types mess up eventually. Have a good day.” The agents left, talking about the paperwork they would have to file.  
  
After finishing her purchase of the cheese, Elizabeth found an empty bench. Sitting down, she pulled the note paper out of her pocket.   
  
In her hand lay a slightly crumpled origami butterfly. On one of the wings, she could make out the words  _You’re Beautiful._  
  
Closing her hand around the paper, she wondered about the stunning man who had given it to her and whether she’d ever see him again.

 

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
“Elizabeth, that was delicious.” Clinton Jones toasted Elizabeth with his beer.   
“Peter is a lucky man.”  
  
“No need to butter her up, Jones. You know you’ve got a standing invitation to dinner.” Peter tossed the comment over his shoulder as he began to clear the plates from the table.   
  
“No shame in complimenting the cook, Boss.” Leaning back in her chair, Diana stretched like a contented feline. “Thanks for feeding us, Elizabeth.”  
  
“Not a problem. You know you and Clinton are always welcome.” Elizabeth passed Peter more plates in the instinctive way of two people who are comfortable with each other. “Anyone want dessert? I’ve got fresh fruit salad with whipped crème.” She grabbed some bowls from the cupboard and set them on the counter.   
  
“I’m up for that. Anyone else?” Diana raised an eyebrow in question. Both men declined. “You’re missing out,” she said, scooping up a spoonful of sliced berries into a bowl and topping them with fresh crème. “This looks delicious.”  
  
“Maybe later.” Peter finished stacking the dishes in the dishwasher. Wiping his hands on the dishtowel, he took down four mugs for coffee. “I want to get a jump on these files first.”  
  
Peter poured them all a cup while Diana and Jones brought the two file boxes in from the living room and set them on the table.   
  
Leaning in for a kiss, Elizabeth took the mug Peter held out to her. “I’ll be upstairs so you can spread out on the table. Don’t work too hard.” She smiled at the other agents as she left the dining room and headed up the steps.  
  
Clinton watched her go before digging a file out of the box. “Like I said before, Peter, you are a lucky man.”  
  
“Don’t think I don’t know it, Jones.” Peter sat down and started sorting through one of the boxes. “I have people telling me that on a daily basis. As evidenced by the email I got this afternoon.”  
  
“Email?” Jones looked up from the file he was reading.  
  
“Peter got an email from Martinez today. Seems as though there’s a vocal minority asking when Peter’s going to add their Third.” The tone of Diana’s voice clearly indicated her feelings on the subject.   
  
“Don’t hold back, Diana.” Jones teased. “Tell us how you really feel.”  
  
“You know how I feel about it, Jones. I think it’s ridiculous that we’re forced into a commitment because the law says so, without taking into account whether it’s the right thing or not. You agree, right Peter?”  
  
“Yeah.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He sighed and looked at his agents. “Guys, you know how I feel about this. Having to announce your Third by the time you’re forty-five—and be married to them by age fifty—or you get thrown in jail until the Government picks your partner is stupid and archaic. But it’s still the Law, at least for now. And technically I’m breaking it.”   
  
He took a sip of coffee and tried to make light of the issue.  
  
“You know, the other day Marion our receptionist offered to set us up with her cousin Jennifer.” He gave a short laugh. “Have you seen Jennifer? She’s 19 years old! What would I do with a 19 year old?”   
  
Diana and Jones tried not to laugh. “I can’t imagine you and Elizabeth with a 19 year old.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing and I’ll transfer the both of you to the Securities Fraud division,” was Peter’s comment to their mirth.  
  
“Sorry Boss.” Diana wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s just you and Elizabeth with a – a  _child_  is just too funny!”  
  
“Seriously, Peter. You know you can’t put it off forever. Until it’s overturned Thirds are still required.” Jones pulled out a pen and legal pad and started to make notes about the file he was working on.  
  
“I know. I’ve got to do something.” He stared blankly at the files in front of them. “Elizabeth doesn’t want to add anyone else to what we have. She’s happy the way we are.”  
  
He sighed and looked at the two people who were as close to best friends as anyone. “Any suggestions?”  
  
“Maybe if it looks like you’re making an effort, people will back down.” Diana pulled a stack of files toward her and began to sort them. ‘You know, go on some dates, hit a few Marriage Clubs.”   
  
“Diana, for as long as you’ve known me, what makes you think I would  _ever_  enjoy going clubbing?” Peter looked at her like she was nuts.  
  
“Hey, boss, it was just a suggestion.” She grinned at him, knowing full well he wasn’t mad.  
  
“Well I suggest we change the subject and get started on these files.”  
  
They worked quietly for a while, sharing notes on the cases spread out across the table, but Peter’s thoughts kept going back to the Marriage Law and how he thought it was wrong.  
  
And if he were being honest, he didn’t want to share Elizabeth with anyone. He smiled when he thought about the day he met her.  
  
He had been roped into going some overdone gallery opening that his boyfriend insisted they attend, claiming that _”this_  artist was the new Jasper Johns”. Martin immediately abandoned him to his own devices, hooking up with an associate who was, Peter suspected, more than “just a friend.”   
  
He’d found a patch of wall that needed holding up and was people watching, when he was greeted by the loveliest smile he’d ever seen. He’d always had a thing for leggy blue-eyed brunettes, ever since Mrs. MacDonald, his fifth grade teacher, but this brunette took his breath away.  
  
She’d flirted professionally with him as he stumbled through an embarrassing discussion of the Pop Art movement, but her eyes were kind as she did so. Later that evening, when his date turned into a rather messy breakup, she’d found him sitting on one of the stone benches outside the gallery.  
  
 _”Hey, you okay?”  
  
Peter looked up from the unlit cigarette in his hands. The girl from the gallery was standing in front of him, looking concerned.  
  
“Yeah.” He tried to smile but it came out more like he’d just eaten a lemon. “No – not really.” His fingers shredded the paper and he watched the tobacco float onto the concrete sidewalk.  
  
“I figured.” She perched on the bench next to him. “You shredded your cigarette.”  
  
“I don’t smoke. They’re Martin’s. He wanted me to hold them so he’d be less likely to smoke them.”   
  
“Ahh.” She said that like it explained everything. They sat in silence for a while.  
  
“So - ” he started. “So, I guess you saw what happened.”  
  
“Sweetie, EVERYBODY saw what happened.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words.  
  
“Great.” Peter groaned and put his face in his hands. “That’s all I need.” His words came out muffled.  
  
“Look at me.” She leaned into him and lifted his face until he met her eyes. “He was an ass, anyone could see that. And you certainly didn’t deserve to be treated the way he was treating you. You did the right thing by dumping him. You’re too good for someone like him.” She sat back and smiled at him.   
  
Peter couldn’t help but snort. “You don’t know anything about me.”  
  
“You know, you’re right.” She stuck her hand out. “Elizabeth Mitchell, assistant manager, Dearmitt Gallery.”  
  
He looked at her slender hand and something told him that it would be in his best interest to take it.   
  
“Peter Burke, Special Agent, Manhattan Regional Militia.” They sat there looking at each other for a moment and he realized he hadn’t let go.  
  
“Well, Special Agent Peter Burke, you look like you could use a drink and a friend.” Elizabeth stood up, pulling Peter with her. “Let’s go get my purse and find a cold beer.”  
  
“You sure you can leave?” He didn’t want her to get in trouble.  
  
“I’ll let you in on a secret.” She crooked her finger and he leaned down so she could whisper in his ear. The closeness of her lips to his face made him shiver. “The assistant manager just gave me permission.”_  
  
They’d found a quiet pub around the corner. She didn’t let go of his hand that night. And by the next morning he was in love.  
  
He didn’t want to share that with anyone.

 

 

@*@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Several hours and two pots of coffee later, Peter grabbed the last file from the box. Skimming the contents, he got a tingle down the back of his neck.   
  
“Jones, who sent us this?”  
  
Jones leaned over and looked at the contents. “That came from Jankowski in DC. He said Kramer wanted us to take a look. Seems that guy’s been causing some trouble in the Capitol but Kramer thinks he’s moved on to our neck of the woods.”  
  
Peter began reading in earnest. The file was slim on details, but what was put together consisted of the following:   
  
Subject: Neal Caffrey  
  
Age: 36  
  
Height: 5’ 11 1/2”  
  
Weight: 160  
  
DOB: 03/21/77  
  
Known Aliases: Nick Halden, George Devore  
  
Suspected of: Bond Forgery, Art Theft, Art Fraud, Money Laundering, Jewel Theft, Jewel Fraud, Tax Evasion.  
  
The usual information. That didn’t interest him – he could study it later. The photos were what captured his attention.   
  
They were a group of surveillance shots – slightly blurry, obviously taken from a distance. Caffrey was talking on a cell. Dressed in jeans and a black button down, his wavy brown hair was tousled, making him look younger than his thirty-six years.   
  
In the first one he had a half-smile on his face. It made Peter wonder who was on the other end and what they’d said to put that smile there. He flipped through several more, all of Caffrey on the phone. The last one stopped him dead. It was of Caffrey – but it wasn’t like the other ones.  
  
Caffrey was staring straight into the camera, a knowing look in his blue eyes. There was a definite smirk on his face.   
  
He’d known they were watching him.  
  
The little shit  _knew!_  Peter flipped through the earlier photos – and there it was. That small awareness. The half-smile, a dip of his shoulder. Caffrey was posing because he knew the Militia was out there and he was tweaking their tails.  
  
A chuckle escaped before he could contain it. Jones and Diana looked up at him, but Peter waved them off. He wanted to keep this one to himself for just a little bit longer.  
  
As he flipped through the photos again, he noticed that a handwritten note had fallen out onto the table. Picking it up, Peter recognized Philip Kramer’s concise handwriting.

 

 

> _Petey,_
> 
> _Thought you’d be interested in this one. He’s been terrorizing Dupont Circle for about 18 months and rumor has it that he’s headed to your neck of the woods. He’s slippery – these are the only pictures we’ve been able to get of him, and every time we get close, he vanishes._
> 
> _His work is good – some of the best I’ve ever seen, and he’s a master at not getting caught. Be careful, Petey, you may have met your match in this one._
> 
> _-P. Kramer_

  
  
Peter reread Kramer’s note. He knew you shouldn’t put emotions to the written word, but he could feel Kramer’s distain dripping from each letter. Kramer insinuated that this fugitive was better than Peter. That Peter would slip up somehow and this man would go free.  
  
That Peter would fail.  
  
Peter put the note and the photos under a paperclip in the file folder and started to close it. Changing his mind, he slipped the one of Caffrey staring into the camera out from under the others. Pulling out his wallet, he folded the photo and slid it in behind his picture of Elizabeth.  
  
He secretly hoped that Caffrey was in his city. If he was, Peter was ready to play.

 

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Neal managed to escape the Militia by ducking into a menswear boutique and slipping out the back door. Mozzie had left a message at the safe house that he was headed back to June’s, so Neal hurried down the steps to the subway platform.   
  
As he waited for the subway car, his thoughts went back to the brunette he’d seen at the market. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. Physically, she’d reminded him of his ex-girlfriend, but even with the brief encounter they’d had, he could tell that she was so much more than Kate.   
  
Kate had left him after a screaming match where she accused him of cheating and using his Talent to sleep with other people. Three hours and an entire set of broken dishes later, he left their apartment and crashed with Mozzie. When he returned the next day, her stuff was gone and the note she left was full of selfish, entitled statements about how she was the best thing that would ever happen to him and he was a prick for letting her go.  
  
That was over four years ago. Since then, he’d avoided anything that resembled a relationship. Occasionally, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he would haunt the local clubs, going home with this man or that woman, never offering his real name and never staying until morning.  
  
Most of the time, though, it was him, a bottle of lube, and his imagination.   
  
But in one simple moment, this woman made him consider what it would be like to wake up next to someone.  _Maybe wake up next to her._  
  
 _Shit._  He had to find her.  
  
The subway car arrived and the doors opened. In a flash, he was enveloped by the other passengers and headed on his way home.

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Neal opened his apartment door to the sound of his television. Sure enough, his friend was on his couch, watching his TV and drinking his wine. Neal was equal parts irritated and relieved. For all his talk about The Man, Neal wasn’t sure that Moz could cut it in prison.   
  
The man in question was currently yelling at the television.  
  
“This is why the workers are oppressed! No understanding of the needs of the many! Oh, hey Neal.”  
  
“I thought we were going to meet up at Friday?”   
  
“We were, but I forgot I’d left the Pinot out to breathe.” He indicated the half bottle of Musigny on the counter. Putting the tiger lilies on the table, Neal walked over to the counter and poured himself a glass. “Besides, I knew you’d shake the Militia, so there was no sense sticking around.”  
  
“What happened, Moz? How’d they find us?” Neal took a seat on the couch next to his friend.   
  
Mozzie muted the television. “Harrison had a Proximity Talent on staff.”  
  
“You’re kidding! How’d we miss that?” Neal shook his head. Proximity Talents kept track of the number of individuals in a given radius. If there were more or less people than listed, they would alert the security divisions they were assigned to.  
  
“I have no idea. They must have hired them after I pulled the employee list.”  
  
“That’s why the Militia were close.” Neal sighed. “And then the Veiling Talent went sideways and they saw me…”  
  
“But you got the egg, right.” Mozzie’s attention was focused on Neal as he took the egg out of his pocket. “Excellent. I’ll get it to Rusty.”  
  
Neal handed him the treasure and he placed it in a black velvet bag.  
  
“By the way, what took you so long to get back?”  
  
“I had to cut through Union Square Market to avoid the Militia.”  
  
“I noticed the tiger lilies. Very nice.”  
  
“Yeah….they are.” Neal smiled to himself, again thinking of the brunette and wondering what kind of flowers she liked.  
  
“Wait. Why are you smiling?” Neal schooled his expression, but it was too late. Mozzie zeroed in on him. “I’ve seen that face before. That’s the face you make when you – no. NO. No girls, Neal. You promised!”  
  
“I did not promise -.”  
  
“You did!” Mozzie interrupted him in a huff. “We were in the warehouse in Baltimore and you swore to me that there would be no more women. No more relationships!”  
  
“I was drunk, Moz. Remember? We swiped the counterfeit Shackleton from the travelling exhibit.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter. You swore on the Raphael.”  
  
“Well it doesn’t matter. I have no idea who she is anyway.” Something in Neal’s voice must have alerted his friend because Mozzie backed down.  
  
“Alright.” Mozzie sighed. “Tell me about her.”   
  
“She’s gorgeous! Long, brown hair. All sorts of shades in it too. Gold and coffee and bronze.” Neal wished he could run his hands through it right now. “Oh and blue eyes, crystal blue eyes...and god, Moz, her smile…” He trailed off, imagining those eyes, that smile focused on him.  
  
“She sounds like Kate.” Mozzie’s voice was less than pleasant.  
  
“No – nothing like Kate.” Neal put his wine glass down and went to his easel. Grabbing a pad of paper and pastels, he began drawing. A short time later, he showed his sketch to Mozzie.   
  
“That’s her.”   
  
“Okay, same coloring, maybe.” Mozzie studied the drawing. “She’s beautiful,” he admitted grudgingly. “She doesn’t look familiar.”  
  
Neal was about to reply when Mozzie straightened and hushed him. “Be quiet! There’s a thing about Imperator Burke coming on. I want to see this.” Mozzie turned up the volume on the television.  
  
The blonde news announcer was speaking.   
  
 _“Earlier this week, Imperator Peter Burke was asked about the failing of the Marriage Law referendum.”_  
  
Neal watched as Peter Burke was stopped outside his building. Microphones were pushed into his face and Neal could hear questions being shouted out at him.  
  
 _“Imperator, what are your feelings about the fact that the referendum was defeated?”_  This was from a short redhead.  
  
 _“There has been a lot of talk about the Marriage Law and whether it’s archaic and outdated.”_  Burke’s voice was neutral.  _“The referendum was placed on a special ballot to see how the citizens of New York felt about it. Its defeat indicates that the voters are not ready to return to single couple marriage.”_  
  
“He doesn’t like that the referendum failed.” Mozzie was watching intently.  
  
“How do you know?” Neal shot him a quick glance but focused on the television as Burke answered a few more questions.   
  
“Watch his body language. He’s open to the reporter, but his face is masked. He’s not happy with the vote.”  
  
“What’s his Status?” Neal was curious. He’d really not paid attention to Burke since coming to New York. His time had been spent getting set up and scoping out the city. Mozzie, however, had been watching the news and gathering information from the people he knew.  
  
“Married, but no Third. Now be quiet. I can’t focus when you talk.” He turned the volume up.  
  
 _Burke was impressive,_  Neal thought, as he watched the man deftly field inquiries. His stature, the cut of his suit, his patience in answering the media’s questions - all spoke of a man comfortable in his skin. Comfortable with being the alpha in the room.   
  
He was handsome, Neal would give him that. Solidly built, Neal could tell there were muscles under his clothes. His brown eyes were sparkling, laugh lines crinkling at the corners. He had a quick smile and laugh for the reporters.   
  
But there was something underneath – something coiled, wild. Neal wondered just what it would take to rattle that composure and bring out that side of Burke. He made a mental note to have Mozzie dig up more information on the man who ran the city. This could get interesting.  
  
A bustle drew his attention back to the television. One of the reporters was crowding Burke.   
  
 _”Imperator, why haven’t you and your wife taken a Third?”_  
  
Neal watched those eyes that were kind, turn flat. This was a point for him, Neal realized, and leaned in to hear his reply.  
  
 _“My wife and I have not settled on a Third as of yet.”_  Burke’s reply was noncommittal, but Neal could tell by his stance that he was angry at the reporter’s question.  
  
Burke began walking away. However, the reporter was not finished and followed him.  _“But are you actively looking for a Third, or are you planning to continue to flaunt your disregard for the Marriage Law.”_  
  
 _Oh Shit._  Neal couldn’t believe that the reporter had the balls to ask that question.  
  
Burke stopped and looked at the reporter with a chilling smile.  
  
 _“Ms…”_  He raised an eyebrow.  
  
 _“Um….Richards.”_  
  
 _“Ms. Richards, the Marriage Law was put into place during a time when the world’s population was unstable. Taking a Third as quickly as possible was beneficial. Now, with stability and growth being the norm instead of the exception, for the citizens of New York, taking a Third can be more of a choice than a necessity. My wife and I are taking that choice seriously, and refuse to rush into a decision that is not beneficial for all concerned.”_  
  
With that, Burke entered the building, effectively cutting off the questioning.  
  
“He has no plans to take a Third.” Mozzie muted the television.   
  
“How can you tell from that bit?”  
  
“Not just that. Other video pieces I’ve seen and what I’ve picked up from the folks around town.” Mozzie’s street contacts had been very helpful. “Rumour has it that he was very interested in the outcome of the referendum because he and his wife are not interested in adding a Third. They don’t feel that the Law is relevant anymore.”  
  
“But that’s illegal.”  _Interesting,_  Neal thought. The Imperator was willing to break the law. His mind started to consider what he might be able to do with that information when he was interrupted by Mozzie.  
  
“You’re plotting.”  
  
“No, not really.” Neal grinned at him as he picked up his wineglass and took it over to the sink. “But I think we need more information about the illustrious Imperator.”  
  
“While I agree with you, just remember, he’s not a nanny goat in a petting zoo. The man didn’t get where he is by being a pushover. He’s dangerous.” Mozzie finished his glass and stood up to leave.  
  
“Oh I know, Moz.” Neal corked the bottle and put it back on the counter.   
  
“But it’s not going to matter, is it?” Neal just smiled. Mozzie sighed. “You’re going to tease him anyway.”  
  
“What is it you say? ‘Know thine enemy?’”  
  
“Heathen. It’s ‘know your enemies and know yourself, you can win a hundred battles.’ Sun Tzu.” He headed to the door. “I have to meet Rusty in an hour. Don’t wait up.” With that, he left.  
  
Neal shook his head. He loved Moz, but there were times…. Chuckling to himself, he headed to the bathroom to shower.  
  


@*@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Elizabeth took a sip of her coffee and made a face. She hated cold coffee, but she didn’t feel like going downstairs to get a fresh cup. Looking back at her spreadsheets, she made a few minor adjustments to the seating arrangements and head count and saved the document. The Anderson-O’Malley wedding was going to be a success if it killed her.  
  
 _It just might,_  she thought with a chuckle. Between the ever-growing guest list and the squabble amongst the in-laws, someone was bound to go to jail before it was all said and done.   
  
She leaned back and stretched the muscles in her shoulders. Peter was definitely going to earn his Mr. Magic Hands moniker tonight. Taking a look at her “To Do” list, she checked off a few entries, closed her day planner and logged out of her business software.  
  
Quickly checking her email, she dashed off an email to her sister thanking her for the steaks and shut the lid of her laptop and put it away. Looking at the clock, she figured that Peter and his agents would be still at it for about another hour – plenty of time for her to dig in to her newest true-crime novel.  
  
Flipping on her favorite internet radio channel, she crawled into the bed and opened her book. Soon she was wrapped up in the tale of the wife and the Third who may have conspired to murder their husband’s boyfriend.  
  
As she turned the pages, she began to feel the same prickle on her neck that she felt earlier that day in the Market. The pain above her right eye came and went quickly and she could feel her Talent kick in. Swift images of the bookseller who sold her the novel and the men who loaded and unloaded the books crossed her mind.  
  
The pain returned, harsher this time, and she grimaced, rubbing her forehead. Suddenly her vision whited out, coalescing into a puff of what looked like steam. Her mind registered a shower as the vision engulfed her senses.  
  
 _Water, cascading down, caressing freckled shoulders. Dark hair, wet like a selkie’s pelt. Face turned up to the spray.  
  
Her beautiful man.  
  
She could almost smell the shampoo – something clean and sharp. Artist’s hands, sudsing, massaging, lathering. Elizabeth wanted to bury her fingers in his hair, carding through the strands, rinsing out the soap, feeling his curls nestle on the back of his neck.   
  
He ducked under the spray, the lather sluicing down his body, turning so she saw the play of muscles in his shoulders. The line of his spine taunted her imagination, inviting her hands to stroke the expanse of his back. She gasped as a jolt of desire shot through her.  
  
As if he’d heard, his head turned and he paused in his ablutions. The line of his jaw shadowed his neck. She wanted to mould her lips to that sliver of darkness and discover the taste of him there.  
  
He moved, washcloth in hand and began soaping up. Exposing his neck, arms stretching, almost posing as he cleaned his day away. He was art in motion. She was transfixed.  
  
Elizabeth moaned softly as he ran the washcloth over his chest, his nipples hardening at the rough texture. The washcloth moved lower, abs flexing at his own touch.   
  
Lower again to the cut of his hips, the indent of his thigh, dipping down to his…_  
  
“El?”  
  
“Huh?” Elizabeth was startled to see Peter standing in the doorway of their bedroom.   
  
“You okay? I’ve been calling.” Peter looked worried.   
  
“Oh yeah, sorry. Just wrapped up in my thoughts.” She smiled at him, hoping that she wasn’t blushing like a teenager.  
  
“Diana and Jones are leaving. Thought you’d want to say goodbye.”  
  
“Sure, I’ll be right down. Let me grab my coffee cup.”   
  
“Okay.” He headed downstairs as she got up off the bed. Taking several deep breaths to calm herself, she walked over to her desk to get her mug.   
  
The origami butterfly had fallen out of her purse. She picked it up and tried to focus. Nothing. She quietly cursed - on rare occasion her Talent didn’t kick in when she wanted it to. Like now.  
  
“El, you coming?” Peter’s voice floated up the stairs.  
  
“On my way.” Tucking the piece back into her purse, she left the room, her thoughts in a jumble.  
  
 _Who was her beautiful man? And how was she able to see him without touching anything?_  El didn't know the answers, but she certainly wanted to find out.  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
The next day was an in-office day, much to Peter’s relief. He’d never thought that paperwork and meetings would be a blessing, but at least it kept him out of the courts and out of the press. He knew he had to deal with Martinez sooner or later, but that day was not today. Today he could be an agent and do what he did best – take down the bad guys.  
  
“Okay, let’s take a look at what we have left. Jones?” He motioned to the agent who put the last case up on the screen.  
  
“Michelson loan scandal. We got word that several micro-lenders are creating fraudulent court orders that instruct employers to deduct small loans from employees' salaries.” Jones put up the names of several micro-lenders that were being implicated.  
  
“The consumers are taking out short term unsecured loans.” Diana picked up the briefing. “They are required to pay the loans back at exorbitant interest rates of around thirty percent over a period of six months or so.”   
“And the minute the consumer defaults, loan sharks slap on a court order requiring the employer to deduct the money owed before the salary is paid.” Peter made a disgusted sound. “We’ve traced these court orders and have found that about forty-five percent of them are fake. The thieves have managed to create documents that have all the required stamps and signatures.”  
  
“There’s a very good possibility that they have an inside person at the courthouse. Jones, see if you can trace the bank routing numbers and determine where the money is being sent. Diana, you and Blake head to the courthouse and see if you can find out who the leak is.” Peter checked his list. “We’ll meet this afternoon and see where we are on this. Good work folks.”  
  
As the meeting broke up Peter motioned to Diana and Jones to follow him into his office.  
  
“What’s up, Boss?” Diana asked as they both took a seat.   
  
Peter handed Jones a file. “I want you two to do some digging on this for me.”  
  
Jones flipped it open and Neal’s face grinned out from the picture. “New case?” He tilted it to show Diana.  
“Not sure yet. It’s the one we got from DC. Keep it under your hat, but take a look at our recent unsolveds from the last thirty to sixty days and see if anything pings. It’s not a priority, so I haven’t made duplicate files, but see what you can find out on that guy.”  
  
“Sure thing, Boss.” Jones put the file back on Peter’s desk and the two agents left.  
  
Peter pulled his wallet out of his pocket and slipped the picture out from behind the photo of Elizabeth. Unfolding it, he could see where the creases were slowly being embedded in the photo from where he’d taken it out several times.  
  
There was just something that drew him to the man in the photo. Whether it was the eyes that looked they knew all his secrets, or the smirk that Peter wanted to wipe off his face, Peter wasn’t sure. He just knew that he wanted to meet him.  
  
Sighing he put the photo back in its place – he’d already started thinking of it as “its place” – and unlocked his computer to start working on the next case.  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
Diana knocked on his doorframe sometime after three. She put a cup of expresso from the shop around the corner on his desk. “Figured you’d need a good cup of coffee at least once today.”  
  
“Thank you! What is with our machine, anyway? Is ‘bad coffee’ a built in setting?” Peter shook his head and took a sip. Sighing in gratitude, he leaned back and looked at her. ‘What’s up?”  
  
“I had a few minutes between calls, so I dug into the Caffrey file like you asked.” The grin on her face made Peter perk up. Diana only smiled like that when she’d found something good.  
  
“And?”  
  
“Haven’t matched up anything locally yet, but your boy has an impressive list of possibilities.” She circled his desk and spread out several papers. Peter started reading and let out a low whistle.   
  
“He’s suspected of lifting the Antioch manuscripts.”  
  
“AND forging the Vinland Map.” Diana’s grin got wider. Peter could tell she was enjoying this.  
  
“Oh wait! Did you see this?” Peter laughed out loud and pointed to an entry. “He’s the top suspect in the theft of the Fiorentina from the Smithsonian eight years ago. Seems as though the thief replaced it with a chocolate one wrapped in foil. That takes balls!”  
  
“Oh my God, how did they find out it was a fake?” Diana couldn’t stop laughing.  
  
“The air conditioning went out and it melted.”  
  
“No!”  
  
“Yeah.” Peter shook his head. “My mentor, Phillip Kramer told me about it. He was on that case. They were not happy. Caffrey, or whoever it was, made them look like fools.”  
  
“So you think that Caffrey’s in New York?” Diana quirked an eyebrow at Peter.  
  
“Kramer seems to think so or he wouldn’t have sent us his file.” Peter read through more of the crimes. “This reads like a Christmas list of major thefts and forgeries. Says here Caffrey may have forged the Papyrus Seven Scrolls. He also may be responsible for the disappearance of the McNally Solitaire from the Scotland Royal Museum, Poe's Tamerlane book, a Tamayo Painting, and Washington's love letters.”  
  
“That’s a pretty impressive haul.”   
  
Peter rubbed his forehead. “Oh, it gets better. He’s suspected of stealing Raphael's  _St. George and the Dragon._ ”  
  
“Whoa, what’s that payout?” Diana sounded impressed.  
  
“It’s worth at least fifteen million.” Peter fell silent for a moment, then looked at his agent. “Diana, if he’s in New York, it’ll be like a playground for him.”  
  
“Boss, if half these things about him are true, we’re gonna have a chase on our hands.”  
  
“Yeah.” Peter could feel his blood thrum as he thought about what Diana said. “Yeah, we are.”   
His phone rang at that moment and he saw that it was a DC area code. Motioning to Diana to sit he picked up the handset.  
  
“Burke.”  
  
“Petey!” Kramer’s jovial tones sent a shiver of distaste down his spine. “How are things in the great State of New York?”  
  
“Oh, you know. Politics, bad guys. The usual.” Peter took a sip of his coffee and grimaced at the lukewarm temperature. “How are things in DC?”  
  
“The same.” Kramer chuckled. “And how’s Elizabeth?”  
  
“She’s well. Business is booming.” Peter could make small talk with Kramer all day if needed, but he knew the reason for the call was spread out over his desk. He figured Kramer would have waited a week or so before giving him a call about it. The fact that he didn’t even wait twenty-four hours sent up a hell of a red flag. And Peter wanted to know why.   
  
Peter purposefully let the conversation lag. He was going to make Kramer ask for it. It was petty, he knew, but Kramer brought out that side of him.  
  
“So Petey, did you get that file we forwarded to you?” Kramer’s voice sounded innocent, but Peter knew he was anything but.  
  
“Not sure which one you’re talking about, Phil.” Diana snorted at his tone and he made a shushing gesture at her.   
  
“The one Jankowski sent up.” Kramer’s voice took on an edge and Peter knew he was getting annoyed.  _Work for it, asshole,_  he thought.  
  
“Oh yeah, it’s somewhere around here. Haven’t gotten to it. Why, is it important?” Peter tossed out the bait to see if Kramer would take a bite. He wanted to know why Kramer was so interested in Caffrey.   
  
“Nah, just wanted to see if you’d had a chance to look at it yet.”  
  
“Nope. Any information you want give me before I take a look?”  
  
“Don’t want to spoil it for you.” Kramer paused. “Say, why don’t you call me when you’ve had a chance to familiarize yourself with it and we can brainstorm. Just like the old days.”  
  
“Let me take a look and get back to you.”  _Like the old days, my ass!_  Kramer wanted information and Peter was not going to give it to him. Caffrey was his. “Hey listen, someone just walked into my office and I need to go. It was good talking to you, Phil.”  _Fucker._  He hung up and turned to Diana.  
  
“If Phil Kramer calls  _anyone_  at this office looking for information on Neal Caffrey, they don’t know anything and the calls get forwarded to you.”  
  
“Understood.” She stood up to leave. “And of course we tell him nothing.”  
  
“That’s what I want to hear.” He gathered the papers into the file, put it in the bottom drawer and locked it. “Now let’s get back to work on cases we can solve today.”  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
“Yes, Mrs. Anderson, I understand. Yes ma’am, the flowers need to be fuschia, not pink. Yes ma’am, I know your uncle William can’t sit next to your cousin Adelaide.” Elizabeth was ready to scream. She held the phone away from her ear and rolled her eyes. Yvonne, her assistant, giggled. They both could hear Mrs. Anderson clearly. When it sounded like the woman was about to take a breath, Elizabeth put the phone back to her ear.  
  
‘Mrs. Anderson. Do you trust me?” Elizabeth paused. “That’s right, I asked you ‘do you trust me’? Then relax and let me do what you are paying me to do. I promise, the flowers will be lovely, your relatives won’t even know the other person’s in the room, and your daughter will have the wedding of her dreams. Can you do that? Can you relax and trust me?”  
  
Elizabeth gave Yvonne a thumbs up at the reply. “Good. Then go enjoy your spa day and I’ll see you at the reception hall on Friday.” She hung up and sighed. “I swear that woman would drive anyone to drink.”  
  
“I don’t know how you do it, Elizabeth.” Yvonne gathered her notes.  
  
“Lots and lots of patience. Oh, and wine, lots of wine!” The women laughed. “Okay, so we are set for the rehearsal dinner on Friday, right?”  
  
“Yes. The caterers know that we added ten more to the dinner, and that we need two less vegetarian meals.”  
  
“Great.” Elizabeth checked her watch. “Shoot, it’s past noon. Go grab lunch and take your time.” She shooed her assistant out of the office and started to organize her notes.  
  
Moments later she was hit with a blinding headache over her right eye. Dropping her pen, she buried her head in her hands and tried not to get sick as a wave of nausea washed over her.   
  
 _Wind ruffled hair, sculpted cheekbones, he was aware of the appreciative scrutiny of the passers by. He walked like there was no doubt in his mind that the looks were simply his due, the natural order of things.  
  
Dark suit, subtly patterned shirt, all exquisitely tailored. She knew what was hidden under the silk and wool. Her hands itched to touch the fabric, to peel it off his lithe frame, to bare him to whatever intent her imagination could create.  
  
Blue eyes searching – for her? – finally settling on a dark wood door with a golden symbol. With a smile that she wished he would smile for her, he entered the building and was gone._  
  
Elizabeth’s vision cleared and her headache began to subside. Rubbing her temples she got up and poured herself a glass of water. Fishing for the Tylenol she kept in her desk, she took two caplets. Sitting back, she replayed the vision, looking for anything that would give her information about her beautiful man.   
  
Elizabeth smiled as she pictured the gold symbol. She knew that image – she passed it several times a week. This time she was going to take the initiative. Grabbing her purse, she headed out the door.  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
_Mozzie always finds the most out of the way places_ , Neal thought as he opened the door to the Thai restaurant. He would have missed it if it weren’t for the small gold character on the front door. The smell of curry, shallots and lemongrass teased his senses as he entered and he could tell that this was not designed to be a tourist destination.  
  
Dark paneled walls hosted lacquered art and silks in golds and reds and greens. There were several small tables and a few booths scattered about the room. Neal slid into a booth at the back, choosing the bench seat against the wall so he could keep an eye on the entrance. He was early because he’d had no idea where the place was and Mozzie always got cranky when Neal wasn’t on time.  
  
He’d just ordered a bowl of hot and sour soup and a cup of tea when Mozzie slunk in and sat down.  
  
“I see you found the place.” Mozzie picked up the menu like it had malaria and gently opened it.  
  
“Your directions were less than stellar,” Neal replied drily. “It would have been just as easy to say ‘the place with the gold symbol on the door on Reade Street.’”  
  
“Yes, but the journey would have been diminished.” The waitress brought Neal’s soup and tea and waited for Mozzie to place his order. Closing the menu, he handed it to her. “I will take a glass of water with five ice cubes. Make sure it’s five. Not four, not six. Five.” She looked at him strangely and went to get his water.  
  
“What was the point of looking at the menu, Moz?” Neal shook his head.  
  
“It might have changed since the last time I was here.”  
  
“Did it?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Let’s move on then.” Neal tasted his soup and groaned in appreciation. “This is delicious. Okay, what did you find out about Burke?”  
  
“I’m still in the preliminaries. I’ll have a full workup with pictures in a day or so, but this is the stuff I got from Google.” He pulled out two typed sheets from his messenger bag. “I made a copy for you.”  
  
“Peter Burke, forty-seven. Born in Cooperstown, New York to mother Cathy and father Joseph. Middle child. Older brother Joseph, Jr., younger sister, Meghan.”  
  
Neal took the second sheet. He scanned it while Mozzie talked.  
  
“Elementary, junior high and high school all in upstate New York. I’ll get the grades but - .” They fell silent as the waitress brought Mozzie’s water.  
  
“Five cubes?” She just looked at him and walked away.  
  
“As I was saying. I’ll get the grades, but he did very well. Got himself a full ride to Harvard with a double major in mathematics and accounting.”  
  
“Nice.” It excited Neal that Peter was smart. He liked smart. “What else?”  
  
“Interesting tidbit. Burke played baseball in college and got signed with the Empire State Tornados. Farm team for the Twins. Tore his rotator cuff. That’s when the Militia recruited him.”  
  
“What division?” Neal read down the sheet. “Damn! You have got to be kidding me!”  
  
“I wish I were, mon frère.” Mozzie sipped his water.  
  
“White Collar? That means he probably knows - .”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Shit, Mozzie, that’s not good.” Neal ran his hands through his hair. “You have got to get more information and fast. We need to know whether we were followed here.”  
  
“I know, man, but I can only get what I can get.”  
  
Neal slumped back in the booth. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Just keep working on it.” Neal felt the tension in his shoulders and knew he needed to do something to relax. He picked up the acrylic menu stand, slid the card stock out of it and began folding. “What else did you find out?”   
  
“Rose through the Militia pretty quickly according to the NYC Regional Government standard bio. Was Special Agent in Charge under a Reese Hughes, former Imperator. I’ve got information coming on him, too. The Regional Legislative branch nominated him by unanimous vote to succeed Hughes when he retired.”  
  
“What about personal life?” Neal took another spoonful of soup. “You said he was married, no Third, right?”  
  
“Right. Married for ten years to Elizabeth Burke nee Mitchell, proprietor of Burke Premiere Events. Their website is down for maintenance, by the way.”  
  
Neal raised his eyebrow.   
  
“What? It was. You said you wanted immediate information and I was busy setting up our next job so I didn’t have time to hack into the files.” Mozzie scanned down the paper. “They live in Brooklyn – never moved after Burke got voted in as Imperator.”  
  
“Man of the people?”   
  
“So far he’s not bad – for a suit.” Mozzie shrugged and took another sip of his water. “We’ll see.”   
  
“Why Moz, I do believe that was a compliment for a member of the establishment.” Neal chuckled at his friend’s expression.   
  
“I like him. But I told you already - he’s not a pet, Neal. This guy has teeth and if you’re not careful he’s gonna bite your ass.”   
  
“Might be fun…” Neal knew he was baiting his friend, but he wanted to lessen the tension a bit. It rattled him that Burke might know some of the people that caused them problems in DC.   
  
“Keep your voice down! It’s bad enough that you’re pining for a strange woman you met at the Market. I don’t want to know about your designs on the man who runs the State Government!”  
  
“Relax, Moz. I was just kidding. When can you get more details?”  
  
“I’ve got a few more things to set up for the next job then I’ll dig deeper and see what I can find.”   
  
“Great.” Neal handed him the paper and Mozzie tucked both pages back in his messenger bag. Finishing his soup, he was about to ask Mozzie about the set up for the new job when the door to the restaurant opened and several people came in.  
  
Glancing over at them, Neal couldn’t believe what he saw. His Muse from the Market had just come into the restaurant. “Moz! She’s here!”  
  
“Who’s here?” Mozzie turned around to look, gasped and then whirled back and slid down in his seat. “Crap!”  
  
“The woman from the Market.” Neal stared. She was wearing a royal blue designer wrap dress and what Neal was sure were at least four-inch patent Louboutins with peep-toes. She was scanning the room as if she was looking for someone. They locked eyes. Her face broke out into a fabulous smile and she started walking towards hm.   
  
It was then he noticed that Mozzie was practically under the table.   
  
“Why are you hiding?”  
  
“That guy that came in behind your princess? He’s the mark! If he sees us together then the con won’t work!” Mozzie shrunk down even further in his seat.  
  
“Damn – okay.” Neal’s mind calculated what they had to do to get out of the restaurant. His Muse was almost at their table. “Give me something to write with.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Just do it!”   
  
Mozzie scrambled for a pen from his bag while Neal dug in his pocket for a twenty. Tossing the money on the table, he scribbled a sentence on the origami and left it on his seat. He grabbed Mozzie and pushed him through the door to the kitchen.   
  
His Muse had been stopped by the host asking if she needed to be seated. Turning to her, Neal shrugged in apology, winked at her and slipped through the door.  _Con or no con,_  he thought,  _Mozzie was going to owe him big time for this one._  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
Elizabeth watched in dismay as her beautiful man disappeared.  _Again!_  Brushing past the host, she hurried to the booth where he and his companion had been sitting. Looking for any sort of clue to who he was, she found another origami piece on the seat.  
  
It was a flower this time. On one of the petals he had written  _Try the hot and sour soup – it’s delicious._  She chuckled to herself.  _Gorgeous AND a food critic._  Turning the folded paper over, she noticed another note. She inhaled sharply as she read it.   
  
 _Don’t worry – I’ll find you._    
  
Elizabeth shivered. She knew the note was a promise. She knew that he  _would_  find her. And she was terrified as to what would happen when he did.  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Peter actually managed to get home at a decent hour, thanks to Diana and Jones. He was greeted by Satchmo whining to go out. Leaving his briefcase at the door, he clipped the leash on the dog and they headed out.   
  
Walking through towards the park, he watched as Satchmo sniffed at trees and bushes as he did his business. This was part of the day he liked, relaxing with his dog, wandering his neighborhood, talking to his neighbors.  
  
After a lively discussion with old Mr. Costano about the best way to grow heirloom tomatoes, Peter and Satchmo headed back to the house. Opening the door, he was met with an armful of Elizabeth. Laughing as she peppered kisses all over his face, he pressed her up against the banister so that they wouldn’t fall down. Satchmo danced around them, barking and wagging his tail.  
  
“What’s this about?” Peter placed a kiss on Elizabeth’s nose. She giggled and captured his lips, running her tongue on the edges. “Mmmm…not that I’m complaining.”   
  
“I’m just happy you’re home early.” She gave Peter a hug and slid from his arms. Taking his hand, she led him to the dining room table. Gently pushing him down into a chair, she crawled into his lap and cuddled her face into his neck. “I missed you.”  
  
“Let me guess – Anderson wedding again?” He rubbed her shoulders and she arched into his hands like a cat.  
  
“Yeah, it was….oh, right there…” Peter chuckled as he watched Elizabeth’s eyes close. “I finally had to put my foot down and tell her to let me do my job. Peter dug his thumbs into her lower back. “Oh God…yeah…uh huh.”   
  
He nuzzled her neck, licking the spot behind her ear that he knew drove her crazy. She gasped and grabbed his head, pulling away slightly and kissing him again.  
  
“You are a naughty boy, Peter Burke,” she murmured against his lips.   
  
“That’s why you married me, Elizabeth Burke.” He continued to massage her back, feeling the tensions of her day disappear.  
  
“Mmmm, nice.” She shifted and looked at him. “How was your day?”  
  
“Eh…”  
  
“That sounds like you need a beer.” She slid off his lap and Peter watched her walk to the refrigerator. As she leaned in to get a bottle, he admired the way she moved. Popping off the cap, she handed it to him and sat back down on his lap. “Tell me about it?”  
  
He sighed. “Phil Kramer called me today.”  
  
“Ahh. What did he want?”  
  
“He sent us a case and wanted to know where we were on it.” Peter took a drink and put the bottle on the table. Wrapping his arms around her, he put his chin on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “He was fishing for information.”  
  
“Why do you think that?”   
  
“Because he called less than twenty-four hours after we got the file, and sounded too blasé about the whole thing.”  
  
“What was the file?”  
  
“That’s just it, El. It’s this con artist making his way up the coast. He may not even be in the city. Nothing that would indicate any specific concern.” Peter huffed in frustration. “Phil’s after something and I’m not sure what it is, but my gut tells me it won’t end up good.”  
  
He felt her hand run through his hair. “You don’t trust him, do you?”  
  
“No, not after - .” He trailed off.  
  
“What, hon?”  
  
Peter paused as he considered how much to tell her. “Okay, remember that time I was loaned out to DC, oh, about five years into our marriage?”  
  
“Yeah. I hated it because you were away for such a long time.” She kissed the top of his head.   
  
“Kramer and I were working an art heist. There was a stolen Degas on the market and our guy was trying to fence it. All of Kramer’s men either were unavailable or had no clue what they were talking about, so they brought me in as the buyer.”  
  
“I remember. But that’s all you told me.”   
  
“Well, we got the whole thing set up, ran the sting, caught the guy. It should have been over at that point.”  
  
Peter leaned back to look at her. “Kramer was in interrogation trying to find out who the thief was and our suspect was not talking.”  
  
He took a deep breath. “I walked in to observation to see how things were going. Maybe learn a few things. Kramer was the best and I wanted to be the best, too. Plus we were friends. He was my mentor.”  
  
Peter stared into space. “El, the guy had his own hands around his neck, choking himself. Phil was touching the guy’s shoulder, that’s it. But the guy was turning blue.”  
  
He shuddered at the memory. “Phil was talking softly but we could hear every word. He was telling the guy that all he had to do to breathe again was to give Kramer the name of the art thief.”  
  
“What? How? What kind of Talent does Kramer have that he can do that?”  
  
“Kramer’s Talent is Compelling. He touches you and you do what he tells you. It’s against the law for him use his Talent in the interrogation of a suspect, but that didn’t seem to matter.”  
  
‘Oh Peter!” Elizabeth looked horrified. He hugged her. “What happened?”  
  
He shrugged. “The guy gave up the name. It was either that or choke to death. And there would be no way to link it back to Kramer.”  
  
“And they let Kramer get away with that?” Elizabeth’s voice was furious. ‘Why didn’t you do something?”  
  
“There was nothing I  _could_  do. I was a visiting agent – it wasn’t my house. And I couldn’t prove anything. No one would have taken my word over the great Phil Kramer.”  
  
“Did you tell anyone?”  
  
“When I got back home I talked with Hughes about it.” Peter shook his head. “Reese said that there’d been rumors about Kramer misusing his Talent but that there was no proof. No one on his team would talk and any technology that was around ‘conveniently’ malfunctioned.” Peter made air quotes with his hands. “Reese told me to keep it under my hat and promised me that he would try to keep me from having to go back to DC. Kramer and I never really talked after that.”  
  
Peter leaned into El again. “I’m worried, El. Phil never does anything unless he has a good reason. I don’t know what this guy has done but Phil wants him. I need to find out why.”  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
Phil Kramer was in a shitty mood. And it was steadily going downhill. He slammed papers around his desk, growled at anyone who had the misfortune to step into his office and generally was an out and out bastard. His people did all they could to steer clear of their boss’s office until they could escape at quitting time.  
  
The silence of the office after everyone had left didn’t make his attitude any better. His mind whirled as he stared out the window, never noticing as the sun set over the Potomac River.  
  
 _Damn Peter Burke!_  
  
Turning back to his desk, he picked up the phone and dialed. When the phone connected, his comment was simple.  
  
“Meet me in the office. Bring our friend.”   
  
He hung up the phone and turned to his computer. He punched a few keys on his keyboard and opened the file titled “Servus.”  
  
Multiple documents popped up on the screen, some with pictures, some without. Kramer scrolled through them until he found the one he was looking for.  
  
Clicking on the radio button, he started the video attachment. Sitting back, he let a small smile of satisfaction play across his face.  
  
 _“I am not going to help you, Kramer!” Caffrey’s voice was hoarse. He struggled against the restraints holding him tethered to the chair.  
  
Kramer chuckled. “I know you Neal. You really think I’m going to have you cuffed with the standard issue restraints? You’re so much more talented than that. I had these designed especially for you in light of your last attempt.”   
  
“Fuck you, Kramer.”  
  
“Now now, language.” Kramer walked around the chair and stood behind Neal. “You’re not listening to me. And you know how I feel about you not listening.” He placed his hand on Neal’s shoulder and spoke one word.  
  
“Hurt.”  
  
Neal screamed.  
  
“That’s right. Now tell me what you are going to do for me, Neal?” Kramer bent down and spoke softly into Neal’s ear.  
  
Neal’s head fell to his chest. “I’m going to use my Talent to steal the Ginevra de Benci,” he moaned.   
  
“Good boy.” Kramer ruffled his hair. “You have three days, then you will come back here.”  
  
“I’ll come back here.” Neal repeated Kramer’s words.  
  
“I’m glad we had this little talk.” Kramer unlocked the restraints. “Three days, Neal.”_  
  
The video ended at that point, but Kramer’s satisfaction at the outcome didn’t. He clicked on another document and brought up a picture of the Ginevra de Benci. The Da Vinci painting was leaning against a gray wall along with what looked like a Vermeer, a Manet and a Rembrandt. He smiled at the memory of busting the fence and the buyer and returning the paintings to their rightful places. It was the right thing to do and showed how qualified his team was.  
  
But now all that had been taken away by the audacity of a conman and someone who should be helping Kramer in any way possible.  
  
 _Burke._  Kramer closed down the Servus file with a bit more force than necessary. Burke was working on the file – it was just the kind of chase he loved. For him to say he hadn’t looked at it was a lie…   
  
Kramer’s thoughts were interrupted by the ding of the elevator. He watched as the two gentlemen enter the office.   
  
They were a composite of opposites. The taller one screamed Government, from his short clipped red hair and dark suit to his regulation shoes, while the other one’s scruff and demeanor labeled him as someone who walked on the underside of the law. But both were useful.  
  
And Kramer intended to use them fully.  
  
“Gentlemen.” Kramer gestured to the seats in front of his desk. “It seems we might have a bit of a problem.”  
  
“What’s going on?” The taller one seated himself and looked at Kramer. “Caffrey?”  
  
“Of course it’s Caffrey, Fowler,” the shorter one scoffed, his British accent dripping with distain. “You think you and I would be in the same place if it wasn’t?”  
  
“Don’t be an ass, Hagen.” Fowler glared at him.  
  
“Relax.” Kramer held up a hand as the two men began to argue. “Curtis, you need to play nice.” He waited for the tension in the room to subside. “Please sit.”  
  
After glaring at Fowler, Hagen took a seat. “What’s the little shit up to now?”  
  
“We think Caffrey’s made it to New York.” Kramer’s voice was cold. “I need eyes in the city.” He shuffled some papers. “Garrett, I’m sending you up to work with Peter Burke.”  
  
“The Imperator of New York? He’s involved?” Fowler seemed impressed.   
  
“Yes. He’s an old friend. I had Jankowsi forward a copy of Caffrey’s file up to him yesterday. When I called today, he claimed he hadn’t had a chance to go over it yet. He lied. So you’re going to New York to help with the investigation.” He handed a set of papers to Fowler. “Here’s your paperwork. And Garrett, Petey’s smart. He’ll try to keep you out of the loop if he can without being obvious. So use your skills.”  
  
He turned to Hagen. “You, Curtis, are going to use your contacts. Set up a job if possible.” Kramer paused a moment. “The Frick Collection would be good. I’ve always wanted to hold the  _Lodovico Capponi.”_  When’s the last time you saw Caffrey?”  
  
“We were considering a job in New York several years ago. Spanish Victory Bonds. Caffrey passed on it. Shame really – it would have netted us a cool hundred and fifty million, give or take.”  
  
“So it won’t be a problem to meet up with him again?”  
  
“I don’t like the bugger – he’s too cocky, but no. Nothing that would make him suspicious of me.”  
  
“Excellent – I want him set up and caught. Feed your information to Fowler. I’m sure you two will find a way to keep in contact.”  
  
Hagen smirked. “If we have to.” Fowler glared at him again.  
  
“This is not a game, gentlemen. Burke doesn’t want us to know he’s looked at Caffrey’s file. I want to know why, and I want Caffrey back in DC as soon as they catch him.” He looked at the two men, his eyes piercing. “Caffrey’s mine. Do whatever you need to make that happen. Now get out.”  
  
Kramer turned to his computer, dismissing them. As they left, he pulled up a picture of the man in question.   
  
“Soon, Neal,” he murmured. “Soon you’ll be back where you belong.”  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
“Moz, where the hell are we going?” Neal bumped into an older lady and apologized as he dashed after the smaller man. “What’s going on?”  
  
“You wanted information on Peter Burke. I’m getting you information on Peter Burke. Now put this on.” Mozzie handed him a baseball cap and a windbreaker with “Yankees” printed on the back.  
  
“Why?” Neal shrugged on the jacket and placed the cap on his head.  
  
Mozzie ignored him. “Now these.” He handed Neal a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. Neal put them on and glowered at his friend. “There. Now you look like a geek who likes baseball.” He began walking towards an outdoor bistro down the street.   
  
“And why do I want to look like a geek who likes baseball?” Neal didn’t move.   
  
“Because you need to be obvious but stealthy when you go and pickpocket Burke’s right hand man. Who is actually a woman.” Mozzie stopped for a moment. “So that would make her a right hand woman.” He giggled at his own joke. Neal looked at him. Mozzie sighed. “Just come on. I’ll explain on the way.”  
  
He led them to the corner next to the bistro. “Okay, see that woman sitting at the outer table? That’s Diana Berrigan, one of Burke’s senior agents.” He jerked his head to the left. Neal quickly glanced in the direction of Mozzie’s gesture. “Don’t stare! She’ll see us!”  
  
“I wasn’t staring! And she won’t see us as long as you don’t look like you’re having an epileptic fit!” Neal looked again.  
  
His target was leafing through a copy of The New Yorker. “She’s pretty.”  
  
“Don’t go there. You already have enough strange women in your life. Besides, you’re not on her dance card.”  
  
“I could be.” Neal grinned.  
  
“No, you couldn’t.” Mozzie pulled out a clipboard from his messenger bag.  
  
“Why not?   
  
“You don’t play for the right team.”  
  
“I don’t?” Neal thought about Mozzie’s comment.  _Oh._  His eyes widened as he got Mozzie’s meaning. “Maybe she’s a switch hitter -.” he began until he caught Mozzie’s expression.  
  
“Can you please be serious?”  
  
“Fine. What’s with the clipboard?”  
  
“We’re running a Deke Martin.” Neal watched as Mozzie straightened the papers and made sure he had a pen.  
  
Neal looked skeptical. “You really think she’s going to buy a survey, Moz?”  
  
“She will if it’s about the Marriage Law referendum. While I’m distracting her, you’re going to take this and clone her phone.” Mozzie handed him a small square box. “We can keep track of emails and texts.”   
  
Mozzie grabbed a set of glasses out of his bag and replaced the ones on his face. “There, now I’m in character.”  
  
“A regular chameleon, Moz. Go survey.”  
  
Neal watched as Mozzie headed over to the table where the agent was sitting. When he felt that her attention was fully captured, he strolled past the table. Bending down to tie his shoe, he quickly rifled through her purse to find her Blackberry. Heading to the men’s room, he locked himself in a stall and proceeded to clone her phone with the device Mozzie had given him.   
  
Keeping up the pretense, he flushed and then went to the sink to wash his hands. The door opened as he was finishing and automatically he looked up into the mirror to see who entered.  
  
Peter Burke.  
  
 _Shit! What the hell was Burke doing here?”_  Realizing he was probably here to have lunch with Agent Berrigan, Neal ducked, hiding his face as Burke passed him. Thanking the gods that it was normal behavior for men not to look at each other while in the restroom, he dried his hands and quickly exited. He saw that Mozzie had already disappeared. Figuring he had maybe three minutes max before Burke exiting the restroom, he walked past Diana’s table, stopped and crouched down. Pulling her phone from his pocket, he stood up again.  
  
“Excuse me, miss. I think this is yours.” He gave her a geeky smile and handed her the phone.  
  
“It is. Thank you.” Diana smiled back. “I guess it fell out of my purse.”  
  
“You have a great day, miss.” Neal walked out of the restaurant. Pausing at the bus stop, he turned around and waited for Burke to come out of the restroom. He knew it was risky, but this was the first time he’d had a chance to see Burke live and in person and he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity.  
  
His phone buzzed and he looked down to see a text from Mozzie.  _Where are you?_  
  
He dashed off a quick reply.  _Peter Burke just showed up._  
  
 _No! Leave now!_  Neal could feel Mozzie’s panic through the phone.  
  
 _Good chance to get a look at the man himself._  
  
Mozzie didn’t reply right away. Then Neal’s phone buzzed again.  _Fine. Just don’t get caught._    
  
Neal smiled and pocketed the phone. Glancing over at the table he saw Peter arrive and sit down.   
  
Making a decision, he took off the jacket and folded it over his arm. Switching out the horn rims for a pair of aviator sunglasses, he walked back into the restaurant and headed towards the table that was close to where the two agents were sitting.  
  
He had to pass by them and as he did, he caught the scent of something clean and almost woodsy. He realized it was Peter Burke. Neal thought it suited him. Something his wife might have purchased, perhaps.  
  
Sitting down, he picked up the newspaper from a nearby table and, pretending to read it, tuned his ear to what they were saying.   
  
“…and because of Mendelsson, I got out of the meeting late, and had to leave Jones to deal with the mess.” Burke was explaining why he was late for lunch.  
  
“Poor Jones. But he wanted to be in charge of this one.” Agent Berrigan started laughing.  
  
“True.” Burke grinned at his agent. As they continued to discuss the office, Neal took the opportunity to study him. He swiftly came to a realization.   
  
Peter Burke was gorgeous.   
  
Neal’s initial impression of him from the news programs was correct, but the television did not do him justice. His brown hair took on highlights that weren’t visible on videotape. Brown eyes, full of intelligence, were softer in person, but Neal could see where they would snap when Burke was irritated or angry.  
  
Broad shoulders, long legs. Neal had always leaned toward tall men and Burke certainly fit the bill.   
  
He dressed well. Neal admired the quality of his suit – Armani from the looks of it. Burke filled it out well. Neal could see the strength coiled under the clothes.   
  
And hands. Strong hands. Hands that could easily put Neal where Peter wanted him. He shivered at the thought of what those hands could do.  
  
In person, his aura of power was subtle, but Neal thought that was because he looked relaxed. He could feel the wildness he’d suspected Burke had when they’d watched him on the news. There was a dangerous element to the man – just like Mozzie said, Burke was not a pet. More like a wolf - sleek, fast, a predator. Top of the food chain.   
  
Neal’s world suddenly went off kilter as he got sucked in by what Burke did next.  
  
He laughed.  
  
Not a polite, public laugh, but a full belly laugh. Burke’s eyes sparkled, his head tilted back, his throat exposed. Completely enjoying his mirth. It was a wicked laugh. The kind of laugh that held promises when directed at the right person.   
  
Neal wanted to be that person.  
  
He mentally shook himself. He really needed to stop thinking of Peter Burke as anything but an adversary. Mozzie would have a fit if he knew. He would also tell Neal that he needed to get laid and soon.   
  
His phone buzzed. Speaking of the little imp.  _Important information. Get back here ASAP._  
  
Neal folded the paper and got up to leave. Exiting the bistro from the opposite direction of Burke’s table, he took one last look. Burke was sipping a cup of coffee, totally unaware that he was being watched.   
  
Gorgeous. No doubt about it.  
  
The thought made him smile. This was going to be exciting.

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Just when Peter thought the day couldn’t get any more frustrating, he found himself fighting a losing battle with his computer when Diana slipped into his office after their lunch at the bistro.   
  
"Diana, why is this not saving?" He gestured at the screen. "I've had to do this over three times. I know it's not me. I'm doing the same things I did yesterday and it worked then."   
  
She came around to see what he was working on. "Oh, that's because they changed the procedure. You need to click here." She pressed a button. "THEN here." Another click. "Part of the new safety protocols."   
  
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" Peter glared at his monitor.   
  
"It was in an email you got last week, Boss." Diana smiled. "You know, the one you said you were going to get to later?"   
  
"Of course." Peter sighed. "I think the guys in IT switch things around just so they have job security."   
  
Diana chuckled. "Probably so. But we have a bigger problem."  
  
"Why am I not surprised. Okay, what is it?"   
  
"DC sent us an agent to help with the Caffrey case." She gestured towards the bullpen where Jones was talking with a man in a dark suit.   
  
"Oh for the love of - Fowler!" Peter cursed.   
  
"You know him?"  
  
"Yeah. That’s Garrett Fowler. He belongs to Kramer and turned a blind eye to Kramer’s behavior when I was stationed in DC. Shit!" He took off his half rims and rubbed his eyes. “He’s a weasel and has no qualms about crossing the line for Kramer. He’s here to keep an eye on us.”  
  
“Can’t you send him back?”  
  
“I could if I wanted to make a big stink about it, but technically DC outranks New York.” Peter leaned back in his chair, thinking. “Besides, it might be better if we keep him around and feed him misinformation.”  
  
“What do you have in mind, Boss?”   
  
“Diana, how would you like to run a sting on an FBI agent?” He grinned at her.  
  
“I thought you would never ask. What’s the plan?”  
  
“I need for you to create a file. We’re going to bury the real investigation under so much paperwork it’ll bore the hell out of Fowler.”  
  
“I like it.” Diana grinned. “What kind of file?”  
  
“Oh, let’s do minor securities fraud. Serious enough to have paperwork and surveillance but boring enough not to attract interest.”  
  
“Name?”  
  
“Hmmm…..Benjamin Cooper.” Peter’s thoughts were clicking. “Mock up some documentation. Oh, and do it at home. No traces through our system. Open the file and backdate it a week.”  
  
“Got it.” Diana smiled. “This is gonna be fun.”  
  
“I always knew you had a little con in you.” Peter grinned. “Put Fowler in the conference room. I’ll let him cool his heels a bit longer. Once you get a chance, tell Jones what’s going on and let him know he’ll be playing babysitter and that I apologize for that. We’ll get Fowler set up at a desk. See what you can do about discreetly monitoring his phone and computer. Garrett’s sneaky so you may not get much, but who knows, maybe he’ll slip up somewhere.”  
  
“No problem.” Diana left the office and joined Fowler and Jones. Peter watched as they brought the DC agent to the conference room.   
  
 _Let him stew for a bit._  Peter finished up the report that Diana had helped him with and notated a few others before he decided that Fowler had waited long enough. Getting up, he put on his jacket and straightened his tie.  _Time to go to work._  
  
“Fowler.” He greeted the other agent as he walked into the conference room.  
  
“Agent Burke. It’s been a while.” Fowler stood and extended his hand for Peter to shake. Peter made no move to take it. After a moment, Fowler’s face flushed with what Peter hoped was humiliation and he dropped his hand. “Uh…I have my papers here. Everything should be in order.” He quickly handed Peter the folder with the documentation.  
  
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Peter put the folder on the conference table without bothering to look at it. “Why are you here, Fowler?”  
  
“Agent Kramer sent me to help you out on the Caffrey case.” Fowler smirked. “Figured you could use a hand.”  
  
“Oh he did, did he?”   
  
“Yeah. Since we’ve been following Caffrey, Agent Kramer thought we might be able to give you some insight into the way that he operates.”  
  
“I see.” Peter leaned against the conference table and folded his arms. “Tell me, Garrett, why is DC so interested in a forger and con artist? I would think that there are more important cases to occupy Agent Kramer’s time.”  
  
Fowler didn’t miss a beat. “Agent Kramer didn’t want to see this guy cause trouble in New York like he has in DC, so he sent me.”  
  
 _Pat answer._  Peter wasn’t surprised. He’d never liked Fowler. He was slimy and Kramer used him for cases that skirted the edge of legality. He straightened up.   
  
“Okay. Let’s get you a desk. Jones will be your liaison with this office.” He motioned for Fowler to precede him. “Once we get you settled, bring him up to speed about what you know. Frankly, we’ve got several high-profile cases that are utilizing our resources, so any insight you can give him, I’m sure he’ll appreciate.”   
  
Jones met them at the bottom of the steps.   
  
“I’m putting Fowler in next to Blake, Peter.” He motioned to the desk in the center of the bullpen. “It’s the only empty spot we have right now.”  
  
“Thanks, Jones.” Peter turned to go, then looked back at the two men. “Oh, and Fowler?”  
  
“Yes, Agent Burke?”  
  
Peter grinned coldly. “Welcome to New York.”  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
One crowded subway ride later, Neal was back at June’s. Letting himself into the mansion, he saw her reading a novel in the parlor. Looking up from her book, she gestured for him to come over.  
  
Neal hugged her before he sat down. “What are you reading?”  
  
 _“Snap of the Twig._  Mozzie recommended it for our next book club meeting. It’s wonderful.”  
  
Neal chuckled to himself. Mozzie and June’s book club was just that – Mozzie and June. And not always books. Sometimes there was Parcheesi. And Mimosa’s. “I’ll have to try it.”  
  
June marked her place with a purple ribbon and put the book aside. “So, tell me what you’ve been up to today?”  
  
“You don’t know?’ he teased her.  
  
“No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s nice to hear it from the source.” She sat back and waited.  
  
“Well…” Smiling, Neal lowered his voice and looked around as if they were in a crowded room. “I just spent the last half hour spying on Peter Burke.”  
  
“Ahhh, our illustrious Imperator. And?” June leaned in, clearly on board with Neal’s game. “What did you think?” she whispered.  
  
“Impressive. He’s definitely suited for the position.”  
  
“Yes he is. Did you think he was handsome?” June raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Why June, what makes you think I would notice?” Neal grinned at her.  
  
“Because he’s just your type, dear. Tall, smart, powerful….” Neal heard the underlying intimation in her voice that Neal was attracted to him. He couldn’t help but blush. “Ah, so you DID notice.”  
  
“It’s hard not to. He definitely has a presence.”  
  
“That he does. And he is very tuned in to what happens in the city. He and his wife Elizabeth have been very generous with their time and money for several organizations that I’m a part of. Maybe one day you’ll get to meet them.” She smiled at Neal.   
  
“June, the only way I’ll ever meet Peter Burke is if he catches me and I don’t intend for that to happen.”  
  
“One never knows what life has in store for us, Neal. Did you ever think you and Mozzie would end up in New York?”  
  
“Honestly, no.” Neal’s phone buzzed with a text message. “And speaking of which, Mozzie is chomping at the bit upstairs. Seems he has some information I need to see.”  
  
“Well then, you’d better not keep him waiting. Who knows what sort of interesting facts and pictures he might have uncovered.”  
  
Neal kissed June’s cheek and rose from the couch.  
  
“Dinner later?”  
  
“Sounds lovely. Tell Mozzie I’ll be up shortly to bring him the Moscato he wanted.”  
  
“I will.” As he walked up the stairs Neal’s phone buzzed again.  _Moz really must have something._  Neal wondered what was so important to get Mozzie so worked up.  
  
Neal entered his apartment to find his friend nervous and pacing.   
  
“Where have you been!” Mozzie took his glasses off and wiped them with his shirttail.   
  
“Um…downstairs talking to June?” Neal went to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water.   
  
“Didn’t you get any of my texts?”  
  
“Yes, Moz. All twenty–two of them.” Neal opened the bottle and took a drink. “What’s going on?”  
  
Mozzie paused in his pacing and cleaned his glasses again. Walking over to the table, he opened a manila envelope and pulled out a picture. He handed it to Neal.   
  
“I found your mystery woman.”   
  
Neal looked at the photo. In it, his Muse was walking with a young curly-haired woman. They were both laughing. He studied her – she looked full of joy, her blue eyes sparkling. He was captivated by her smile, the blush of her cheeks, the curve of her face.  
  
“Who is she, Moz? Did you find out her name?” He hoped Mozzie had that information. He needed to see her again.   
  
“Elizabeth Burke.” Mozzie’s voice was flat.  
  
“What!?” Neal’s head jerked up from the picture and he stared at his friend.   
  
“You heard me. Elizabeth. Mitchell. Burke.”  
  
“As in Peter Burke?” Neal ran a hand through his hair.  _No, no, NO! This could not be happening!_  “She’s his WIFE?”  
  
“The one and only.”   
  
“Tell me you’re kidding.” Mozzie had to be wrong.  
  
“I wish I were.” Mozzie opened the envelope again, pulled out a dozen photographs and tossed them on the table.  
  
Pictures of Peter and Elizabeth Burke. Mozzie‘s contact had captured them in several different moments. Everything from walking their dog, to eating a meal at a local restaurant, to sharing a kiss in front of Peter’s office.   
  
Neal couldn’t believe it. He sat down at the table and studied the images. In the photos he could see Peter’s strength and Elizabeth’ softness. The brilliance of their smiles. The connection that was so obvious in the way they leaned into one another. They were perfect for each other.  
  
He understood why Peter didn’t want a Third in their marriage. If Elizabeth were his wife, he wouldn’t want to share her either.  
  
 _If Elizabeth were his wife…_  Neal mentally shook himself. He didn’t need that thought in his head, not when his Muse was married to someone he found equally, dangerously attractive.   
  
“So what are you going to do?” Mozzie was looking at him.  
  
“What do you mean?” Neal stalled, trying to think of something that would pacify his friend.  
  
“You know exactly what I mean.” Mozzie gestured to the photos on the table. “Your mental love affair with the wife of the most powerful man in New York City.”  
  
“Who says I’m going to do anything?”  
  
“Because I know you. And I know that she just became more tempting when Peter Burke got added to the mix.” Mozzie sighed. “You know, ‘Things forbidden have a secret charm’?”  
  
“Quoting Tacitus, Moz?”   
  
“It fits.” Mozzie tapped the pile of pictures on the table. “And you haven’t answered me.”  
  
There was a knock on the door.  
  
“I’ll get it.” Neal quickly rose. Opening the door, he saw June standing there with a bottle of wine in her hands. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he whispered as he hugged her.  
  
“Oh, I think I might.” She winked at him as she entered. “Mozzie, dear, here’s the Moscato I promised you.” She handed Mozzie the bottle. “I see you are admiring Imperator Burke and his lovely wife.”  
  
She shuffled through the photos and picked one that Neal hadn’t seen. “I think this one is my favorite. It was taken at a charity gala that I hosted.” She held it up.  
  
The Burke’s were standing with another couple, all holding champagne glasses and smiling into the camera. Peter’s custom tailored Tom Ford tuxedo hugged the width of his shoulders and accentuated his long legs. Legs that could trap Neal in their grip without any difficulty if he wanted to. Elizabeth’s royal purple Valentino dress clung to her curves, and her upswept hair revealed a spot behind her ear that Neal imagined would make her shudder if he pressed his lips against it.   
  
“They are an exquisite couple aren’t they?” June’s soft words broke Neal from his trance. He looked away from the photo and found himself caught in her knowing gaze.   
  
“They’re perfect together,” he replied, echoing his thoughts from earlier.  
  
“Maybe so. Maybe not. It all depends on your definition of perfection.” June placed the photo back on top of the others. “Sometimes people can surprise you.”   
  
The hair on Neal’s arms prickled at her words. He nodded at her to continue, but she just smiled at him.   
  
“Mozzie, dear, are you up for some Parcheesi?” June definitely was changing the subject.  
  
“I’d love a game.” Neal had almost forgotten that Mozzie was still in the room.   
  
“Well then, I guess I’ll go for a run.” Neal needed to clear his head and figure out what to do about Mozzie’s information. “Have fun with your game.” He headed to the closet to get changed.   
  
As soon as he was gone, Mozzie whirled to look at June.  
  
“Okay, what do you know,” he demanded. “You’ve seen something, I can tell!”  
  
June sighed. She picked up one of the pictures of the Burkes. “They’re not perfect. At least not yet.”  
  
“Neal?” June nodded.  
  
Mozzie voice was brittle. “Neal gets involved with them?  
  
“He does…” She ran her hand over the photo. “And in the end, it’s wonderful.”  
  
“But the beginning?” Mozzie began pacing again.  
  
“Oh Mozzie, dear – the beginning has already happened. That’s where we are now. It’s the points in between…” She trailed off, her eyes distant.  
  
“What’s going to happen? What did you see?” He took off his glasses and compulsively started cleaning them.  
  
“Pain. Blood and pain…”  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
“Hon, do you know where the hole punch is?”   
  
Elizabeth heard Peter rifling through drawers in their office.   
  
“Top drawer of the file cabinet.” She put on a drop earring and looked in the mirror. Fluffing her hair, she checked her lipstick, grimacing at her image to make sure she had no color on her teeth. While she was primping, Peter walked in with the hole punch in his hand and leaned against the doorjamb. He gave a low whistle.  
  
“Wow, you look hot!” He motioned with his finger for her to turn around.  
  
Elizabeth smiled and spun, the short skirt of her red sundress lifting up a bit.  
  
“Not too much?”   
  
“It’s perfect, except for one thing.” He straightened up and walked to her. Wrapping his arms around Elizabeth, he pulled her to his chest. Elizabeth felt him nibble her ear.   
  
“And what is that?” She caught his eyes in the mirror and raised an eyebrow at him. She knew what the answer was, but she loved to hear him say it.  
  
“You’re still wearing it.”   
  
“Hmm…maybe if you’re a good boy when I get home, I’ll let you take it off me.” Peter growled at her comment and she laughed.  
  
They were interrupted by the ringing of Peter’s phone.   
  
“Shoot. It’s Diana. I have to take this.” He let her go and grabbed the phone from his pocket. “Hey, Diana. No, you didn’t interrupt anything. Elizabeth’s getting ready for girl’s night.” He paused, then laughed. “Hang on, I’ll tell her.”   
  
He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Diana says not to do anything she wouldn’t do and if you get caught to call her for bail money.”  
  
Elizabeth laughed. “Duly noted.” She hugged Peter and kissed him, running her tongue quickly across his lips. He hummed in appreciation.   
  
“I heard that!” Diana’s voice sounded tinny from the cell phone speaker.  
  
“I am allowed to kiss my wife in my own home, Agent Berrigan.” Elizabeth felt him kiss the top of her head. “Have fun tonight, hon.”  
  
She hugged him goodbye, then headed downstairs to get a light jacket and her purse.  
  
A half hour later she was surrounded by three of her closest friends. Dana and Jen had arrived earlier so when Elizabeth walked into the bar there was already a Cosmo waiting for her.  
  
Lisa showed up shortly after, apologizing for being late. “The babysitter cancelled and John and Sebastian are out of town, so I had to call my mom or else I wouldn’t be here at all.”  
  
“No problem. We’re just glad you could make it.” Elizabeth scooted over to make room for her.  
  
“We ordered you a Mai Tai.” Dana smiled at Lisa. “We wanted to get you drunk enough to tell us all the sordid details about Sebastian.”   
  
Lisa was the only one of their group so far that had taken a Third and they had been pressing her for information for a month.   
  
Elizabeth saw Lisa smile and blush. “You know I don’t kiss and tell.”  
  
“Except when it’s us, honey!” One of the city’s star prosecutors, Jen sat back and gave Lisa the look that frightened many a defendant into confessing. “Spill.”  
  
Elizabeth listened as Lisa described life with her Third.  
  
“…and the three of us spend Sundays at the park with the kids. The boys love Sebastian and he and John play Frisbee with Allen and Jake for hours.”  
  
“That’s all well and good, Lisa, but what about the SEX?” Dana laughed wickedly. “We want specifics. What’s it like?”  
  
Elizabeth watched as Lisa giggled. “Oh my God! I haven’t had this much sex in like, EVER!” She gestured for all of them to come closer. “I mean it was great before, but together John and Sebastian are insatiable. They can go for hours and hours. And they take turns! I think I’ve had sex in every room of my house. At least twice.”  
  
“What are they like together?” Jen took a gulp of her drink and gestured with her hand. “That’s what I wanna know about!”  
  
“It’s my own private porn movie.” Lisa’s eyes glazed over. “It’s so hot it should be illegal. Seb’s huge, and seeing John take that – I’ve come just from watching them.”  
  
The girls laughed and kept peppering Lisa with questions. Elizabeth let the conversation wash over her as she watched Lisa’s face. She looked so happy. Sebastian was definitely a good addition for them.  
  
Unbidden, an image of Peter and her beautiful man flashed through her mind. Peter was kissing him, their naked bodies rocking against each other. She sucked in a breath as a jolt of desire coursed through her. She spun out the fantasy further, putting herself in the middle of them, their mouths on her breasts, hands caressing her hips and thighs, moving love to her -.  
  
“Elizabeth?” Dana was looking at her. “You okay? Your cheeks are flushed.”  
  
Elizabeth realized that the conversation had stopped and her friends were watching her.  
  
“What? No, I'm fine.” Elizabeth took a drink of her Cosmo and hoped her blush was fading.  
  
Dana was staring at her. “Wait, I know that look,” she said.  
  
“What look?” Elizabeth turned to her other friends. “What’s she talking about?”  
  
“See?” Dana turned to the other two women and pointed at Elizabeth’s face. “Remember that look?”  
  
“Oh my god, you’re right!” Jen nodded her head. “The last time we saw that look on your face -.”   
  
“- was when you started sleeping with Peter!” Lisa finished.  
  
“Elizabeth - are you having an affair?” Dana asked the question in a hushed tone.  
  
Wait - what? No!” Elizabeth was shocked. “Why would you think that?”  
  
“Because the only time we’ve ever seen your face like that is when there’s a new man in your life.” Jen sat back and crossed her arms. “But I know you’re too much in love with Peter to even consider an affair so what gives?”  
  
Elizabeth was silent as she regarded her friends. They were watching her with equal amounts of concern and interest.   
  
“Okay.” She took a breath. “First of all, there is no affair. You guys know I would never do that.”  
  
“But…?” Lisa raised an eyebrow.  
  
“But my Talent has been doing some strange things recently.” It felt good to say that out loud.  
  
“Like what?” Dana’s face was worried. “Bad stuff?”  
  
“No, just weird. It kicks in when I’m not holding anything, and it’s only focusing on one person when it does that.”  
  
“Who?” Jen leaned in, her body language in deposition mode.  
  
“That’s just it. I don’t know.” Elizabeth blew her bangs out of her eyes in frustration. “I’ve seen him several times in the last few days but I don’t know who he is.”  
  
“Well, what’s he look like?” Dana finished the rest of her drink and signaled the server for another round.  
  
Elizabeth blushed again. “He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”  
  
“Which explains the look on your face.” Lisa laughed. “More handsome than Peter?”  
  
“No. You know I think Peter is totally gorgeous. But this guy is almost surreal.” Elizabeth drained her drink as the new ones arrived. “It’s like he’s not even human he’s so beautiful.”  
  
“So have you only seen him in your visions?” Jen asked curiously. Elizabeth didn’t answer. “Wait – you’ve actually met him haven’t you!”  
  
“Twice. Both times I saw him in a vision before I saw him in person.”   
  
“Okay, now it’s your turn to share details.” Lisa stirred her drink as she pointed at Elizabeth. “We want everything. Hair, eyes, is he built, did you get to check out his ass – all of it.”  
  
“And while you may be married, you’re not dead so it’s okay to appreciate art in all its forms,” Jen stated. “Especially if it comes in a package as pretty as you say it is.”  
  
“Okay, okay!” Elizabeth started laughing. “I’ll tell you!” She had a captive audience as she described her beautiful man. His thick dark hair and stunning blue eyes, his incredible smile, the clothes that covered a strong, sensual body. She left out how good that body looked naked - for some reason Elizabeth didn’t want them to know about her shower vision. It seemed too private.   
  
When she explained how she’d met him the two times, her friends were amazed.   
  
“So you never actually talked to him?” Jen shook her head. “Not word one?”  
  
“No. When I saw him that first time at the Market -,” Elizabeth paused. “Well - he was being chased by the Militia…”  
  
“Oh you’re kidding!” Dana choked on her drink as all three of them burst into laughter. “Only you, the wife of the Imperator, would flirt with someone who was about to get arrested!” She grinned at Elizabeth. “Bet it made him that much sexier.”  
  
“No comment.” Elizabeth grinned back. She turned to Jen. “And you are not allowed to go digging, okay?”  
  
“Who me?” Elizabeth gave her a stare. Jen sighed dramatically. “Fine. No digging. But what about the second time? At the Thai restaurant – why didn’t you talk to him then?”  
  
“He had a friend with him. A short guy with glasses. When I got close, the little guy panicked for some reason and they headed out the back door.” Elizabeth shrugged. “No clue why.”  
  
“So any more visions after those?” Lisa asked.  
  
“Nope. At least not yet.”   
  
“You haven’t told Peter about this yet, have you?” Dana was looking at her with a serious expression.  
  
“No…” Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t even know what to tell him if I did. ‘Oh, by the way, hon, I’ve been having visions of an absolute hottie that I’ve run into twice. Here’s your deviled ham.’?”   
  
“Yeah, I can see how that would be somewhat of a problem,” Lisa mused. “But you ARE going to tell him, right?”  
  
“You know I will. I just need to figure out how.” Elizabeth sipped her drink as she contemplated telling Peter about her beautiful man.  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Several hours and several drinks later they decided to call it a night. Elizabeth walked Dana to her car and assured her she would be fine in the short distance to her own vehicle.  
  
“Remember, we want updates on Mr. Beautiful,” Dana hugged her. “Especially if you see him again.”  
  
“Yes, mom.” Elizabeth laughed and gave Dana another hug. “Drive safe.” She watched Dana drive away and headed in the direction of her car.   
  
A block and a half away, Elizabeth was about to unlock the door to her car when she was hit with an excruciating wave of pain.  _Oh no._  She slumped against the door and rubbed the space between her eyes. The pain cleared a bit and there he was.  
  
 _Black on black, his hair falling in a curl on his forehead. Long fingers wrapped around a glass. Ice clinking against the side. Impatience flitting across his face. Dark, ring-stained wood table. Table ads pushing happy hour specials. Leather-clad heel tapping lightly on the floor. Television showing a baseball game._  
  
He was in a bar, that much was obvious. Elizabeth knew it had to be fairly close. The other times she’d seen him he’d been nearby. Easing herself up from her vehicle she looked around.  _There!_  From across the street a dingy looking storefront with darkened windows and a lit up Budweiser sign grabbed her attention.   
  
Shaking her head to clear it, she squared her shoulders and headed toward the bar. This time, she was going to make sure she got some answers.  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Neal nursed his Ketel One as he waited for Rusty to show. The fence had a job for Mozzie but his friend had a prior appointment so had asked Neal to go in his place. Neal hated to meet with Rusty because he was always late and had a tendency to create blackouts when he was nervous. And Rusty always seemed nervous. Neal had learned to bring a flashlight any time he had to meet with the red-headed fence.   
  
He surveyed the bar. Rough paneling matched the rough clientele. A TV in the corner was playing a Yankees game at low volume. Not his typical haunt, but at least they had his vodka. Slouching back in the booth, he pulled out the photo of Peter and Elizabeth that June had shown him earlier.  _When did he start thinking of them as Peter and Elizabeth?_  
  
He ran his finger softly over the picture as he imagined what it would be like to be standing next to them, touching them like he was touching the photo, leaning in to the strength, holding the beauty. Spying a pen on the table he turned the photo over and began sketching. When he was finished, he jotted down the thought in his head and folded the photo into a simple shape, leaving Peter and Elizabeth’s faces in the center of the pattern. He put it back into his pocket and pulled out his phone.   
  
Checking the time he realized that Rusty was fifteen minutes late. Neal began to text Mozzie when he felt the atmosphere of the bar change. He looked up and sucked in his breath.  
  
His Muse – Elizabeth, he corrected himself – was standing at the door. She was head to toe in red – red sundress, red sandals. She glowed like a ruby. He saw her peruse the patrons and knew she was looking for him.   
  
His meeting with Rusty forgotten, he slid to the edge of the booth and stood up to go to her. Her gaze locked on him and he was blinded by her smile.  _Finally!_  He had no clue what he was going to do or say when they officially met but he needed to touch her, be enthralled by her.  
  
One of the patrons stepped in front of him, blocking his way. When Neal moved to go around him, he realized that the man had Elizabeth’s arm in his grip. She was trying to pull away, but the man wouldn’t let go.  
  
“Hello, gorgeous. Wanna go home wi’ me tonight?”  
  
Neal sized up the situation and hoped that he could diffuse the situation with charm. “Excuse me, but the lady is with me.” He flashed a grin and moved to rescue Elizabeth from the drunk.   
  
“I don’t think so, buddy.” The man growled at him and tugged Elizabeth closer.  
  
“Let go of me.” She sounded angry and irritated.   
  
“Aw, c’mon, honey. Don’t be that way.” The man swayed as he tried to steer her away from Neal.   
  
“The lady said to leave her alone.” Neal stepped in between the two of them and deftly removed the man’s hand from Elizabeth’s arm. “Why don’t you go back to the bar and I’ll buy you another drink.” He motioned to get the bartender’s attention.  
  
“Fuck you. I saw her first.”   
  
 _You have GOT to be kidding! How cliché can you get?_  Neal felt like he was in the middle of a bad Lifetime Movie. “Really?” He shook his head.  
  
“C’mon, let’s just go.” Elizabeth took his hand and turned to leave the bar. Before they took a step, the drunk grabbed Neal and shoved him up against the wall. Neal could feel the man’s Talent – strength – kick in.   
  
“I said I saw her first!”   
  
Neal knew he had no choice. He closed his eyes and concentrated, aware of the quick zing as his Talent activated. He touched the man’s arm and felt the man’s Talent flow into his body.   
  
The man’s eyes widened as he felt his Talent disappear. Neal smiled at him and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. The man let him go, mumbling “sorry, man,” several times as shuffled back to his seat.   
  
“Let’s go.” He guided Elizabeth out of the bar, his hand on her waist. Once they were outside, he stopped.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She took a deep breath, blew it out and grinned at him. “Just a bit scary back there.”   
  
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Neal rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess they’re not used to seeing someone like you in there.”  
  
“Someone like me?” She raised her eyebrow and Neal could see a sparkle of humor on her face.  
  
“You know, sophisticated, beautiful -,” he began.  
  
“Female?”   
  
Neal chuckled. “That too.” He looked at her, still amazed that she was in front of him.   
  
“So…” Elizabeth began.  
  
“So…” Neal repeated. He trailed off, finding himself at a loss for words for the first time in a long time.  
  
“What did you say to him? The man in the bar?”   
  
“I just convinced him that it would be in his best interest to leave you alone.”  
  
“Thank you for doing that, by the way.” She gestured back at the bar. “That probably wasn’t the smartest move, going in there alone.”  
  
“Probably not.”  _So why did you?_  He was about to ask that question when his phone buzzed with a text message from Mozzie.  _Rusty at wrong bar. Meet in twenty at Finnigan’s._  
  
 _Great._  Neal was going to kill both of them. Slowly and painfully. “Look, I’m sorry, but I need to go.”   
  
“Oh, okay.” Elizabeth sounded disappointed.   
  
“Did you drive?” When she nodded, he said, “Let me at least walk you to your car. Where is it?” Anything to stay with her just a little bit longer.   
  
“Over there.” Elizabeth pointed to a black Taurus across the street.   
  
Neal held out his arm for her to take. The warmth of her hand against his skin raised goose bumps on his flesh. As they walked across the street, he could feel her hip brush against him, causing arousal to pool low in his body.   
  
He was definitely going to kill Mozzie and Rusty.  
  
They were at her car far too soon. She unzipped her purse and retrieved her keys.  
  
“Here, let me.” Neal took the keys from her and unlocked the door. Opening it, he handed them back.   
  
“Oh, a gentleman.” She laughed and placed a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“No, I’m really not.” Not when all he could think of was taking her home and unwrapping her until she was naked and writhing on his bed.  
  
“Why do you say that?”  
  
“Because a gentleman wouldn’t do  _this_.”   
  
Taking her face in his hands, he leaned in and kissed her. Elizabeth’s lips were soft and sensual and Neal could taste a mix of alcohol and mints as he gently enticed her mouth to open to his tongue. She gasped as his fingers found their way to the nape of her neck. Caressing the area behind her ear that he’d seen in the photo, Neal felt her shiver.   
  
He placed kisses along her jaw as he allowed himself the luxury to savor that spot. Elizabeth tasted like summertime and sex and Neal knew he could easily spend a lifetime getting lost in her essence. She shuddered, mewling low. Splaying his hand across her back, he pressed them closer until nothing but cloth separated them. Her nipples hardened against his chest and his cock gave an answering response.   
  
That reaction brought him back to reality. Here he was, standing in the middle of the street, kissing Peter Burke’s wife.  _Imperator_  Burke’s wife. Kissing her as if she belonged to him. Neal’s lips stilled in his exploration and regretfully he pulled away.   
  
Looking at her wide eyes and her kiss-swollen lips, Neal rolled the dice. He leaned close to her ear, his breath ghosting against her neck.  
  
“Tell Peter Burke I said hello.”   
  
Elizabeth inhaled sharply at his words. She started to speak, but Neal quieted her with another soft kiss.   
  
“I think you need to go home now…” he murmured against her lips, their foreheads together. The words  _or I don’t know what I might do_  hanging like a silent promise between them. He let her go and stepped back, reaching into his pocket for the photo. Taking her hand, he pressed it into her palm and closed her fingers over it.   
  
Giving Elizabeth a small smile, Neal turned and walked away, knowing that she wouldn’t follow.  
  
But wishing that she would.  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Peter sipped his coffee as he looked over the information that Diana had given him about Neal Caffrey. The Yankees were playing on the West Coast and he had the game playing softly in the background.   
  
He’d brought his copy of the file home so he could study and strategize without Garrett Fowler looking over his shoulder. What little information they’d been able to uncover was spread out across the dining room table. Papers were jumbled up with Peter’s handwritten notes. It all added up to a whole lot of nothing right now.   
  
He stood up and stretched, then padded into the kitchen to get a fresh cup of coffee. Satchmo trailed behind him, hoping for a treat. Peter grabbed a rawhide from a jar on the corner of the counter and tossed it to the dog. Satchmo caught it and retreated happily to his dog bed to gnaw the snack.  
  
Refreshing his coffee, he leaned against the counter and surveyed the file on the dining room table. There still wasn’t much. Nothing that indicated Caffrey was in New York except a possible lead on a stolen Faberge egg from Victor Harrison’s place.   
  
His gut kept telling him that Kramer wasn’t after Caffrey for any alleged thefts or forgeries. It was something else. He pushed off the counter and sat back down at the table. Flipping through the file he tried to see if there was anything out of the ordinary that would fuel Kramer’s interest about this particular con artist.   
  
An hour later he still had nothing. Digging in his back pocket for his wallet, he pulled out the picture of Caffey.  
  
“Why the hell is Kramer so interested in you?” he wondered out loud. “What did you do to get on his radar?” The picture stayed silent, Caffrey’s blue eyes and sly smile mocking him. “Of course you won’t tell me. You’re a picture.” He tossed it on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose.   
  
Sighing, Peter logged into his computer and pulled up a browser window. With a few keystrokes he accessed the secure server at the office and opened the Harrison file. Maybe he could find some connection to Caffrey in the incident reports.   
  
Scanning the contents, he began reading the officers’ reports when he heard Elizabeth’s key in the lock. Satchmo jumped up and trotted over to the door to greet her.  
  
“Hey, hon, how was your night?” He rose and crossed the room to give her a hug. Without saying a word, Elizabeth dropped her purse on the entrance table and and threw herself at him. “El, honey, are you okay?” Peter felt her shake her head. He leaned back to look at her. “What’s wrong?   
  
He cupped her face in his hands. Brushing the hair away from her cheeks, he saw that her makeup looked like it had run. “Have you been crying?”  
  
“Yeah.” Her voice was hoarse. Her eyes welled with tears and she buried her face in his neck.   
  
“C’mon, let me get you a glass of water and you can tell me what’s wrong.” Peter led her over to the kitchen and opened the cabinet to get a glass. Filling it with water he gave it to her. He saw Elizabeth’s hands shake as she lifted the glass to her lips. “Did something happen with the girls?”  
  
“No.” She drank some more. “Nothing with the girls.”  
  
“Then what? Oh God did you get hurt?” He ran his hands over her arms, checking for injuries.   
  
“No, no…I’m not hurt.” She set the glass down on the counter. “Peter, I…I did something stupid tonight.” She started to cry again.  
  
Peter did the only thing he knew how to do in the face of Elizabeth’s tears. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed.   
  
“Hey, hon. It’s okay. Please don’t cry.” He rubbed her back and pressed kisses to her forehead. “Whatever it is, it’ll be fine. Shhh…”  
  
He waited until she was able to compose herself. “You okay?” She nodded. “What happened? What did you do that you think was stupid?”  
  
“I…I went to a bar after girl’s night.” She stopped, then started again. “I’ve been having…my Talent has been doing strange things…” She trailed off.  
  
“Here, let’s sit down.” He guided her to the dining room table and pulled out a chair for her. “Let me just clear this stuff off.”  
  
He began gathering up the papers and photos into the file folder. Suddenly his wrist was in a vise of Elizabeth’s fingers.   
  
“ _Peter!_ ” Elizabeth’s voice was tight. “Peter – who is that?” He followed her gaze to the picture on the table.  
  
“Neal Caffrey, the con artist that Kramer is interested in,” he said slowly.   
  
Elizabeth started laughing hysterically. “Of course it is. Who the hell else would it be?”   
  
“El, you’re starting to scare me.” Peter sat down. “What’s going on?”  
  
“My Talent, Peter.” She gestured to the picture. “It kicks without me touching anything and I see  _him._  Only I didn’t know it was him. He was at the Market and the restaurant and then tonight at the bar when I went to get into my car -.”  
  
“Wait. Back up. You’re telling me you’ve met him?” Peter ran a hand through his hair as he processed what she was telling him. “You’ve met Neal Caffrey?”  
  
“Yes.” Elizabeth took a breath. “Three times so far.”  
  
“Three times? El, has he been stalking you?”   
  
“No…it’s more like I’ve been stalking him.” Elizabeth’s voice was quiet.  
  
“Now I’m really confused.” Peter looked at her and realized she was blushing. “Start from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.” He had a feeling that he wasn’t going to be happy with what she had to tell him.  
  
“It started the day I was at the Union Square Market. My Talent activated without touching anything and I saw him running. And then he was right there walking towards me.”  
  
“Did he do or say anything to you?” Peter couldn’t sit still anymore. He got up and paced.   
  
“He didn’t hurt me if that’s what you’re asking.” Elizabeth’s voice was subdued and Peter stopped and turned to her. She looked small and frightened and he realized he was treating her like a suspect instead of his wife.   
  
He collected himself and returned to his seat. Taking her hands in his, he kissed them. “I love you. It’s okay. Just tell me what happened.”  
  
“Okay, but I need to show you something, too.” Elizabeth stood and walked over to her work bag. Peter saw her pull something out of it, then get her purse. She came back to the table and sat down.  
  
“He didn’t hurt me – in fact, the first two times we didn’t even talk.” She didn’t look at him as she gave him details about the Market and Caffrey running and told him about the restaurant. “But he did give me something.” Elizabeth handed him the origami butterfly. “This was the first one.”  
  
Peter took it, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Origami? Why?”  
  
“Turn it over.” He flipped it and saw the message on the back.  
  
“‘You’re beautiful?’” He looked at her and saw the faint blush stain her cheeks again. Something primal started to unfurl inside him but he tamped it down. He needed more information and whatever was trying to escape would just have to wait. “Okay, you said this was the first one. There are more?”  
  
“Yeah. Here’s the second one.” She gave him the flower. He read it, raising an eyebrow at the soup recommendation.  
  
“He follows ‘You’re beautiful’ with ‘Try the hot and sour soup’?”  
  
“Lift the petal.” He did and and read what was written. The curl of unrest flashed into full-blown jealousy when he thought about Caffrey promising to find his wife again. Because that’s what it was - a promise. And there was no way Peter was going to let Caffrey near what was his.  
  
“Wait, you said you met him three times. When was the third?”  
  
“Tonight, after I walked Dana to her car.” The silence stretched out.  
  
“El, what happened.”   
  
“I saw him in a bar close by, so I – I went in to get some answers. I got stopped by one of the drunks and Neal got me out of there.” She blushed even more furiously.   
  
“You got stopped? What do you mean?”   
  
“Well, the guy wanted me to go home with him and Neal convinced him that it would be a bad idea. We left and he walked me to my car.”  
  
There was more – Peter could feel it. “And then?”   
  
“And then he…sort of…kissed me.”  
  
“He sort of kissed you.” Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Caffrey kissed Elizabeth. Neal Caffrey kissed his wife. Oh, this was rich.  
  
“So what you’re telling me is that the man I’ve been looking for – someone that I didn’t even have any proof was in my city – has been flirting with my wife for almost a week. Giving her origami. And kissing her.”   
  
“Peter, I didn’t know who he was!” Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears again.  
  
“It doesn’t matter!” Peter shoved back his chair as he stood up. “I don’t want  _anyone_  else kissing you, let alone Neal Caffrey!” He stormed into the kitchen looking for something, anything, to occupy him while he tried to wrap his head around what Elizabeth had told him. He saw Elizabeth’s glass of water on counter and drained the contents as he worked to get himself under control.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Elizabeth’s voice was a broken whisper. “Peter, it just happened. We were at the car and he - it...just…happened.”  
  
He knew that if he looked at her all he’d want to do is wrap her back up in his arms and hold her until she stopped crying again, but he was too angry and hurt to give in. He took a steadying breath.   
  
“Is there anything ELSE you might want to tell me? Any other meetings or flirtations or - I don’t know - visions?” He glanced sideways at her.  
  
Elizabeth nodded, eyes were closed, tears trailing down her cheeks.   
  
“Um…when I was at girl’s night Lisa was talking about Sebastian and John and sex and my mind started to wander -.”  
  
“Wander where? What were you thinking?” Peter’s anger started to overtake him again when he imagined Elizabeth fantasizing about she and Neal. “No, don’t tell me. I’d really rather not hear about MY WIFE fantasizing about having sex with another man!”  
  
“I was thinking about how hot it would be to see the two of you naked together, okay?!” she snapped. It was the last thing he expected to hear coming out of her mouth and it stopped him short.  
  
“Wait, what? You were imagining me and…me and Caffrey?” Peter’s fury disappeared and confusion took its place.  
  
“Yes!” Elizabeth’s anger smacked him. “I did! I didn’t know who he was and the girls were talking about sex and Lisa was telling us how fantastic and hot it was watching Sebastian and John together and for a minute you and…and  _Neal_ flashed into my head and you were naked and kissing and, well – it was hot.”   
  
Peter didn’t know what to say to that. He felt deflated, his anger at the whole situation gone. He looked at Elizabeth and realized she wasn’t angry anymore either. He gave her a small smile. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Me too, hon. Please come sit. There’s more, but it’s not something to get angry over.” She chuckled shakily. “At least I don’t think you’ll get angry.”   
  
Peter pulled his chair closer and sat back down. “What is it?”  
  
“There’s a third origami.” Elizabeth paused. “When Neal walked me to the car, after he…well, after...he gave me this.” She took picture out of her purse and handed it to Peter. “This one’s different.”  
  
“How so?” Peter saw that it was a picture of him and Elizabeth from the charity event they attended last month. It was folded to frame their faces.  
  
“Because I think it’s really for you.”   
  
“For me?” Peter was puzzled. “What makes you think it’s for me?”  
  
“Because before he gave it to me he said, ‘Tell Peter Burke I said hello.’” Elizabeth looked at him. “Peter, he knew who you were.”  
  
Her words sent chills down Peter’s spine. Not the kind of chills that made him reach for his gun, but the kind that left him sore and sated when he woke up the next morning.  
  
Elizabeth gestured to the origami. “There’s something on the back I think you should see.”   
  
He turned the photo over and unfolded it. On the back was a sketch. Peter’s breath caught as he studied it.  
  
Neal had drawn a sketch of Peter and Elizabeth. Arms around each other, Elizabeth was looking over her shoulder at Peter, who was gazing down at her. Neal had captured the glint in her eye and her laughing smile. Her hair curled down over her shoulder gave a small glimpse of her ear and the side of her neck. She was beautiful.  
  
Peter was shocked at his image. He’d never thought of himself as particularly handsome, despite Elizabeth’s opinion to the contrary. The Peter in the sketch was gorgeous. Strong jaw, broad shoulders, eyes twinkling with merriment as he looked at his wife, Neal had drawn him in a way that made Peter look almost larger than life.  
  
His attention was captured by the other figure – Neal – in the sketch. He was off to the side, his face half in shadow. Peter’s chest tightened as the rawness of Neal’s expression spilled out. Longing, pain, desire – somehow Neal had captured all those emotions in a simple pen and ink drawing. Underneath was a sentence.  
  
 _You are very lucky._  
  
“El?” He didn’t know what to say.   
  
“Look at his eyes in the drawing, Peter,” Elizabeth said gently. “He’s not looking at me.”  
  
Peter looked back down and realized Elizabeth was right. That gaze, those emotions, were directed at him. “Shit…”  
  
“Yeah…” Elizabeth leaned in and cupped Peter’s face, turning it up towards her. “What are you going to do?”  
  
“El, if he does something wrong I’m gonna have to arrest him.” Peter took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. “I’ll have no choice.”   
  
“I know.” She nestled herself in his arms.  
  
“Plus Kramer’s after him and if he even gets a whiff of this - this,” Peter waved at the origami. “Whatever this is, it could get really ugly.”  
  
“You’re going to have to find him first, Peter.”   
  
“I know, but other than what you’ve told me tonight I have no idea where he is.” He thought for a moment. “But I think I might know where he’s been. Scoot the laptop over here.”  
  
She did as he asked. “Want me to get up?”  
  
“No. Need you close right now if that’s okay? I’m feeling a little insecure.” He grinned sheepishly as he logged back into the computer.   
  
“I know. I need you close too.” Peter felt her lips brush his temple. “Can I help with anything?”  
  
“Actually, can you get a read off that photo?”  
  
“I can’t see him when I touch things and the visions come and go.” She picked up the photo. “But maybe I can see who else touched it and you can go from there.”  
  
“Good idea. Before you do, when did you see Neal running? What day?”  
  
“The day you had Jones and Diana over for dinner so – Tuesday?”   
  
The day Peter had first seen Caffrey’s picture. He smiled and thought that it was ironically appropriate. They “met” him on the same day. He called up the Harrison robbery and clicked the officer report tab.  
  
Sure enough – there it was. Pursuit was terminated in Union Square Market after potential suspect was lost in the crowd. Partial description – dark hair, slender build.   
  
“Neal, what did you do?” Peter muttered to himself. He was interrupted by Elizabeth’s voice.  
  
“Hon, I think I’ve got something.” She was smiling.  
  
“What’d you see?”  
  
“I didn’t see Neal, but I did see two people.”   
  
“Okay, grab that notepad for me and describe the scene.” He picked up a pen from the table. “Shoot.”  
  
“Two people, playing Parcheesi,” she began. Peter snorted. “What? That’s what they’re doing.”  
  
“Fine, go on.” He wrote that down on the notepad.  
  
“One of them is the short guy I told you was with Neal at the restaurant. He’s balding and wears glasses.”  
  
“And the other one?”  
  
“You will never believe it – June Ellington. And I think they are in her house.”  
  
Peter laughed. “Why am I not surprised? June’s late husband Byron had a tendency to walk on the other side of the law on occasion.”   
  
“So what happens now?” Elizabeth turned to him, and he could see worry in her eyes.  
  
“We’ll stake out June’s house and see what we can find. Plus we’ll keep it as much under the radar as we can while Fowler is in town.” He wrapped his arms around Elizabeth. “But right now I want to take my beautiful wife to bed and show her just how much I love her.”  
  
He stood, spilling Elizabeth from his lap and making her giggle. Picking her up, he carried her to their bedroom as the rain started falling outside.  
  
Hours later, his body weary but replete, Peter stared at the ceiling as the storm thundered outside his window. He and Elizabeth had worked things out just like they always did, but thoughts of Neal were leaving him unsettled.   
  
Neal’s face in the surveillance photo. Neal flirting with – kissing – his wife. Elizabeth’s fantasy. The sketch. It all played havoc with what he was supposed to do and, in the dark of the night, what he admitted to himself he wanted to do.  
  
He rolled over and looked at his wife. Elizabeth was stretched out on her stomach, one leg hitched and her hand curled up under her chin. He gently reached out and placed his hand on her back. She murmured something unintelligible and moved slightly closer.  
  
Peter closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He imagined a bigger bed, a slender body next to Elizabeth, a strong hand touching his. Blue eyes and dark hair mirroring Elizabeth’s leaning up over her to capture Peter’s lips.   
  
A peal of thunder startled him and Peter gasped as his eyes flew open. Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling again.  
  
It was a long time before he closed his eyes.

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
Setting up surveillance on June’s mansion was as simple as filing a request. Keeping it from Fowler wasn’t as easy. Peter buried it under a small investment scam case, claiming that June Ellington was a potential victim and they were watching to see if the scam artist appeared. Boring enough for Fowler not to be suspicious but useful enough to get the van in place to watch Caffrey’s comings and goings. He distracted Fowler by sending him and Jones to check out potential leads on Caffrey that usually turned out to be nothing.   
  
Diana and Blake were manning the Municipal Van when Peter stopped by with coffee and danishes.  
  
“So what’s happening today?” He handed out the cups and pastries and sat down next to Diana.   
  
“Nothing much. Caffrey and the little guy have been in and out. June walked the dog. All in all fairly boring.” Diana sipped her coffee. “But I’m pretty sure they’re on to us.” She gave Peter a grin.  
  
“Why do you think that?”  
  
“Um, because Caffrey waved at us when he was leaving this morning?”  
  
“You’re kidding!” Peter couldn’t help but smile at that. He knew he shouldn’t be amused but something about Caffrey’s brashness at acknowledging their surveillance amused him to no end.   
  
“Nope.” Blake spoke around a mouthful of bearclaw. “Caffrey came out of the mansion with the short guy, turned toward the van and waved.” He chewed some more. “Short guy wasn’t too happy. He kept hiding.”  
  
“You don’t seem to be too upset that he’s made us, boss.” Diana looked at him quizzically.   
  
“I’m not. As long as  _he_  knows we’re watching, that’s good enough for me.” Peter’s grin got wider. “Let’s think of it as crime deterrent. Keep me posted. I’ve got to head back to the office and see whether Jones and Fowler have any more leads.”  
  
“You know you’re going to owe Jones big time for this.” Diana smirked at him. “He says Fowler is a pain in the ass.”  
  
“I’m sure he is. But we need to make sure he’s kept away from Caffrey until we can figure out why Kramer is so interested in him.” Peter stood to go. “Call me if anything changes. Oh, and Blake? Don’t wave back next time.”  
  
Peter left the van to Blake’s voice asking Diana how he knew that.  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
“So the Suit is leaving the van.” Neal watched Mozzie focus the antique telescope over the balcony so he could get a clearer view. “It simply amazes me that they think they can watch unobserved in that eyesore. Especially in this neighborhood.”  
  
“I’m not sure they’re going for unobserved, Moz.” Neal refilled his mimosa. Picking up the New York Times, he flipped to the Arts section. “The Militia can be subtle if they want to. Peter wants us to know he’s watching.”  
  
“You know you’re becoming a bit too familiar with the Suit. I’m not sure being on a first name basis is good for your health.” Mozzie stepped away from the balcony and came to sit beside Neal. “Speaking of suits, have you run into Mrs. Suit lately?”  
  
Neal sipped his drink before replying. “No, not since the restaurant.” He deliberately kept his attention on the paper. He knew if he told Mozzie about kissing Elizabeth, his friend would have a breakdown. Plus, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to share.  
  
“Well it’s my opinion that you need to stay far away from her. And her husband.” Mozzie poured himself a drink. “Especially since we’ve got the Slesinger job lined up. Better for everyone all around.”  
  
Neal thought about that. A grin slowly crossed his face. “Actually Moz, I think staying away is exactly what we don’t need to do.” He folded the paper and turned to his friend. “You still know the ticket guy at Yankee stadium, right?”  
  
“Neal, what are you thinking?” Mozzie took a gulp of his mimosa.   
  
“Peter has us under surveillance. We can’t – well,  _I_  can’t make a move without him focusing attention on us. So let him focus on me.”   
  
“What are you gonna do?”  
  
Neal gave Mozzie his patented Caffrey smile.   
  
“I’m gonna become the center of Peter Burke’s world.”  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
“Diana where’s the Pederson file!” Peter tossed his glasses on the desk and rubbed his eyes.  
  
“Here boss, sorry.” Diana hurried through the door from the conference room and handed him the file. “It was stuck under the mortgage fraud cases.”  
  
“As long as I have it. I’ve got a status report to put together by three today. Oh, and I need updates on MacKenzie, Johnson, Jamison, the boiler room scam from the Kansas field office and the break in at the Channing.”  
  
“Will do.” She wrote down what he needed. “I’ll get Blake to check on the Channing. Think it’s our boy?”  
  
“Nah – too sloppy.” Peter looked at his watch. Noon. “Damn! I promised El I would take her to lunch.”  
  
“Want me to call her?” Diana looked sympathetically at him.  
  
“No, I’ll do it. Just order everyone some lunch from the place around the corner that delivers. Tell them to bill us.” He gestured to Diana to close the door as he picked up the phone to call Elizabeth. Before he could press an outside line, his cell phone rang.   
  
 _Blocked Number._  He swiped the open tab.  
  
“This is Peter Burke.”  
  
“Hello Peter.” The voice was velvet smooth, with hints of laughter. Peter straightened in his chair.   
  
“Neal Caffrey.” He pulled up his chat window to have Diana to run a trace.   
  
“Got it in one.” Neal chuckled. “Oh and don’t bother, Peter. I’m on a burner phone and we won’t be talking long enough for Agent Berrigan to run a trace.”  
  
“How’d you get this number?”  
  
“Peter, please.”  
  
 _Arrogant little -_  Peter shook his head.  _So it was going to be like that._  He turned to face the window so no one could see him easily.  _Game on._    
  
“You kissed my wife, Neal.” Peter cut to the chase.   
  
“I did.” Neal’s tone was amused but unrepentant.   
  
“I could have you arrested.” Peter tossed out the threat to see how Neal would react.   
  
“You could.” Smooth – no fear.  
  
“Why are you calling me, Neal?”   
  
“Just to let you know that Elizabeth will be receiving a lovely bouquet of flowers at her office this afternoon.”  
  
“And why are you sending my wife flowers?”  _This should be interesting,_  Peter thought.  
  
“To apologize for you missing dinner tomorrow.”   
  
“Why am I missing dinner?”  
  
“You'll see - in five, four, three, two, one…”   
  
There was a knock on Peter's door. One of the mail clerks stuck his head in.  
  
“Agent Burke, this was left for you at the front desk.”   
  
He handed Peter a manila envelope with ‘Peter Burke’ written on it in an elegant hand. Peter waited until the mailroom runner left before he spoke.   
  
“How did you do that? The timing?”  
  
“Just part of my skill set, Peter. Open the envelope.”  
  
Peter used his letter opener to make a slit in the flap. Opening it, he discovered tickets to the sold out game between the Yankees and the Red Sox, as well as pre-game dugout passes.  
  
“Neal, these are behind home plate. Where did you get them?”   
  
“A friend owed me a favor.”   
  
“You didn’t forge these, did you?”   
  
“Peter! I am shocked and horrified you would think that of me.” Neal sounded neither shocked nor horrified.   
  
“Neal, your wanted poster lists forger.”  
  
“True…”  
  
“Well, did you? Forge them?”  
  
“They’re real, Peter.” Peter heard him chuckle again. “Oh, and you should take Agent Jones. I think he’d enjoy the game.”  
  
“You know I can’t accept these.”  
  
“C’mon, Peter. Live a little. After all the trouble I went to to get them to you, the least you could do is enjoy them. Consider them a gift.”  
  
“A bribe.”  
  
“A gift, Peter. A bribe implies I want something.”  
  
“Don’t you?”  
  
“What I want doesn’t relate to your job.” The intent in Neal's voice hinted at things that Peter was afraid he'd enjoy far too much. “Take the tickets. Enjoy the game. We’ll talk again.” The call ended.  
  
Peter looked at the silent phone in his hand. The game had begun and in the opening gambit, Neal played masterfully. Whether Peter wanted to admit it or not, round one went to Caffrey.   
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
As the weeks progressed, Peter realized Caffrey was outplaying him at every turn.  
  
After the tickets to the Yankees game – which Elizabeth convinced him to use, and Jones thoroughly enjoyed attending with him – and the huge array of azaleas which had a place of honor on their dining room table, Neal pulled out all the stops.  
  
 _Things_  started appearing.   
  
At the office, to his house, in the van. To his wife.  
  
Delivery from Peter’s favorite pizza place to an overnight stakeout on a case that wasn’t remotely connected to Caffrey. Double pepperoni. The Note – “Even Militia have to eat sometime, Agent Burke.”  
  
Italian roast and New York’s finest pastries to a quarterly staff briefing, accompanied by “Meetings can be so dull, don’t you think? Here’s something to sweeten things up.” Peter had IT look for hidden cameras, sweep for bugs and check the network firewalls because there was no way Caffrey could have known they would be in meetings all day.  
  
Lunch for his entire bullpen from the Vietnamese restaurant on Water Street.  
  
Preview passes for the new James Cameron movie mysteriously appearing on everyone’s desk, courtesy of the Imperator.  
  
One of the highlights was a large basket of bones, rawhide and chew toys delivered to the office for ‘Mr. Satchmo’ in care of Peter Burke.  
  
“He’s sending baskets to my DOG, El!” Peter didn’t know his voice could whine like that.  
  
He was pacing in his kitchen while Elizabeth unpacked the basket. He’d been doing that a lot lately - pacing. She just smiled as she put away the dog biscuits.  
  
“Aww, I think it’s cute, Peter. He’s flirting.”  
  
“With my dog?” He threw up his hands in frustration. “I need a beer.”  
  
“Neal sent us some to the house today. Bottom shelf on the door. He said we would find them ‘robust yet refreshing’, I think the note read.”  
  
“Of course.” Peter sighed and grabbed a bottle. Twisting off the cap, he took a taste. Neal was right, it was robust, yet refreshing.  _Damn him._  
  
“So what surprise did you get today?” He was almost afraid to ask. Neal had already sent Elizabeth multiple bouquets of exotic flowers, a certificate to one of the most exclusive spas in the city, as well as tickets to the latest staging of _Cosi fan tutti_  by the Met.   
  
“He sent me a Ms. Rule for my desk.” Elizabeth grinned.   
  
“A what?”   
  
“A Ms. Rule. Pop artist. Very exclusive.”   
  
“Naturally.” He sat down at the dining room table. “El, this has got to stop. HE has got to stop.”  
  
“Why?” She took a seat next to him.  
  
“Because he’s a criminal. Because he’s straddling the line.”  _Because I’m enjoying this way too much._  
  
“He’s just trying to get your attention, hon.”  
  
“What do you want me to do? Next time we’re staking out June’s, hold up a sign that says ‘I heart Italian’?”  
  
“Couldn’t hurt.” She got up to start dinner. “Actually, I think you’re jealous.”   
  
“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” Peter wasn’t sure he liked where she was going with this.  
  
“I think you’re jealous -,” she came back and kissed him on the nose. “ – because Neal hasn’t given YOU anything since the Yankees tickets.”  
  
Peter began to protest until he was silenced by her look.   
  
“Okay, maybe you’re right.” It was stupid, he knew that. But he’d been a little disappointed that Neal hadn’t sent anything since the day he called.   
  
“Which is why he sent me this, too.” She handed him a phone. Burner, Peter’s mind registered as he flipped it open. He scrolled through to the contacts. There was only one number.  _212-555-0174._  
  
“Dinner won’t be ready for at least a half hour. Why don’t you call him?”   
  
Peter walked out onto his back porch and sat down. He ran his thumb over the call button.  
  
Taking the tickets was one thing. Peter could chalk that up to not wanting to waste good baseball seats. If he called Neal, he might be opening a door he may never be able to shut again.  _And maybe that might be the best decision I ever make in my life,_  his inner voice whispered.  
  
He pressed the button.  
  
Moments later, the door shut as the call engaged.  
  
“Hello, Peter.”  
  
“Hello, Neal.”  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
“Philip Kramer.” Kramer was in the middle of composing an email when the call came.   
  
“It’s Fowler.”   
  
“What’s happening Fowler?” Kramer growled into the handset. “You’ve not given me anything new in a week.”  
  
“That’s because there is nothing to give. I’ve been running down leads with Agent Jones and nothing is panning out. The only thing happening is that Burke keeps getting stuff delivered to the office.” Kramer hated the whiny little-girl voice that Fowler sometimes used when he felt threatened.   
  
“Deliveries?” Kramer leaned over to grab a file from his credenza. “What kind of deliveries?”  
  
“Just stuff like lunches and food for meetings.” Kramer could hear Fowler moving papers around. “Movie tickets for his staff. Oh yeah, and some fancy basket of crap for his dog.”  
  
Kramer smiled.  _Gotcha!_  Whether Peter realized it or not, he had just tipped his hand. He knew his former student – maybe better than he knew himself. Peter was not the kind of man to lavish unnecessary gifts.  
  
Neal Caffrey was.  
  
Caffrey was in New York, Kramer could feel it. And he was certain that Burke was in touch with him.  
  
“Has Burke talked to you about the case?”  
  
“I’ve barely spoken to him. He’s been wrapped up in quarterly reviews and other cases. Caffrey’s not a top priority for him.”  
  
“I think you’d be surprised.” Kramer paused for a moment. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Even if it doesn’t turn anything up, at least it’ll keep Peter occupied. Call if anything develops.”  
  
Kramer hung up and chuckled. He knew Peter would take to Caffrey’s case like a starving man to a steak dinner. He couldn’t help it. It was Peter’s nature to dig. One of the reasons that his nickname – “The Archeologist” – was apropos.  
  
It was time to call Hagen and see what information he could shake from the less than honest side of the tracks.  
  
Kramer considered Hagen to be another tool in his belt - an especially useful one when he couldn't afford to get the Militia’s hands dirty. Other than that, Hagen was worthless - maybe not as much of a dupe and a fool as Fowler - but in the scheme of things, not worth his time.  
He called Hagen on the unregistered cell he used for situations like this. No need for anyone to know his business.  
Hagen picked up on the third ring.   
  
“Good afternoon, Curtis.”  
  
“Kramer.” Hagen’s voice had a sneer of distain. Kramer could care less what he thought. He paid the man well enough that he didn’t need to worry about his opinion.  
  
“I think it’s time for you to work your magic in the Big Apple. I have it on fairly good authority that Caffrey’s there.” A white lie, but it served his purpose.   
  
“Not a problem. I’ve got some feelers out. There’s been a sighting of Caffrey’s little friend.” Hagen sounded almost gleeful. Kramer knew there was bad blood between Hagen and Caffrey’s friend but he really didn’t care enough about them to find out what it was. Caffrey was his only concern. “Plus, I’ve heard rumblings of some jobs that have Caffrey’s stamp on them.”  
  
“Excellent. Call me when you have solid confirmation that you’ve found him. And make sure you stay off Peter Burke’s radar.”   
  
Kramer disconnected the call. A small smile graced his face. He knew they were closing in on Caffrey. An idea formed and he turned to his computer to open a browser window. A few clicks later he had a hotel confirmation at the W New York and a rented Cadillac at Washington National Airport. No sense in not travelling in style.  
  
He wanted to be there when his people found Caffrey. He unconsciously licked his lips as he thought about the man that he was chasing. With Hagen’s contacts it would only be a matter of time before Caffrey was back in DC.  
  
Back home where he belonged.  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
It took less than a week for Peter to realize that he had fallen into a routine of communicating with Neal. Sometimes he called Neal, sometimes Neal called him. Or they texted. The times varied, but there was at least one point of contact every day. He had taken to carrying the burner phone with him to work so as not to miss a call.  
  
Their conversations ran the gamut from art and philosophy to history and politics. Each time they spoke, Peter inevitably told Neal to turn himself in. And each time he did, Neal laughed and changed the subject. It had become a game that both men enjoyed playing.  
  
More and more, however, Peter would call Neal and ask his opinion on a case. It started with the theft at the Channing. Peter remarked on how sloppy the job was and, off the cuff, asked Neal how he would have done it – hypothetically.   
  
“Trade secrets, Peter. But I wouldn’t have gone in through the skylight, I’ll tell you that. That’s for amateurs who’ve watched too much Mission Impossible.” Peter could hear the professional disgust in Neal’s voice. “You should check the surveillance feed from the parking garage a block away. Someone ran into a pole and knocked one of their cameras off track. They haven’t realigned it yet.”   
  
After they ended the call, Peter had Jones check the footage from the parking garage. Sure enough, it caught the burglars entering through the skylight. By enhancing the video, they were able to make out the faces of some known criminals and made several arrests.  
  
The next time Neal called, Peter asked him, “Don’t you feel bad about turning them in? I mean, isn’t there some kind of criminal code against that or something?”  
  
“I don’t like shoddy work.” Neal’s reply was simple. “The sloppier they are, the more likely your side will pay attention. That’s bad for all of us.”  
  
“So I should look for the most professionally done heist and I’ll find you there?”  
  
Neal laughed. “Peter, the only time you’ll ever catch me at a job is if I actually wait around for you to show up.”  
  
The conversation continued, but it gave Peter some food for thought. Caffrey might be a criminal, but he took pride in his work and Peter could respect that. It went a long way to changing his view of Neal as a simple con man.  
  
Of course, Elizabeth thought it was the funniest thing to hear them arguing the finer points of the security system at the Metropolitan as she cooked dinner. Peter would put the phone on speaker and they would debate the ability of the guards to actually apprehend a thief as the Bolognese sauce simmered.  
  
Peter was getting ready for bed that evening when Neal’s latest text came through.   
  
 _I think you should take Elizabeth to the opening of the Magritte exhibit at MoMA._  
  
He chuckled and sent back a reply.  _I think you should stop sending my wife lingerie._  
  
 _Should I send you lingerie?_  was the immediate response.  
  
 _I think you should turn yourself in._  Peter knew that Neal would sidestep the comment. He headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  
  
 _I like the lingerie idea better._  
  
 _I’m sure you do._    
  
About ten minutes later Peter’s phone buzzed again.  
  
 _So when do I get to see the fashion show?_  
  
Peter’s thoughts took a decidedly inappropriate turn as he pictured Elizabeth modeling Neal’s gifts for him. For them, because damned if Peter was going to miss that. With a bit of shock he realized he was imagining El half dressed with Neal in their house.  _In their bed…_  He felt his desire raise it’s head and blink sleepy eyes.  
  
He shoved that thought back in its box, not quite ready to go there, not yet, and dashed off a reply.   
  
 _The day I handcuff you._  
  
 _Ohh – kinky. I knew there was a reason I liked you._  
  
Naturally.  
  
 _Stop bothering me. I’m going to bed with my wife now._  
  
 _Kiss her for me._  Then shortly after.  _Rest well, Peter._  
  
He was still grinning when Elizabeth came into the bathroom and gave him a hug. Ducking under his arm, she wrapped her arms around him and he picked her up. Pulling her legs around his waist, he walked them to the bed and sat down on the edge.  
  
Elizabeth laid her head on his shoulder. “You like him, don’t you.” Not a question. She’d seen the texting, watched him over the last weeks.  
  
“Yeah, El. I do.” He looked at her. “I didn’t want to. I mean, he’s a thief and a con artist. Everything that I’ve spent my life fighting against. But -.”  
  
“But he’s also a person.” She finished his thought. “He’s funny and he’s smart and you like that he can keep up with you.”  
  
“Exactly.” Peter was silent for a moment. “El, is it wrong that I can see how easy it would be to let him in?”  _And how scared I am to let that happen?_  
  
“Oh, Peter.” Elizabeth put her hand over his heart. “Don’t you realize? It’s too late. He’s already here.”  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
“Tell me about Philip Kramer.”  
  
Peter’s words stopped Neal in his tracks. Pedestrians in the middle of Madison Square Park flowed around him, some giving him dirty looks as they had to navigate around his frozen form.  
  
 _Shit, shit, SHIT!_  
  
His body cold, all his senses were screaming  _danger_ , but his voice was steady as he replied, “Don’t know a Philip Kramer.”   
  
“Philip Kramer, Imperator of DC? Ring any bells now?” Neal could hear the frustration in Peter’s voice.  
  
“Nope. Sorry, Peter.” Neal began walking again, glad that Peter couldn’t see him. He needed to get back to June’s. Back to where he could breathe for a moment. To decide what to do next.  _To run._  
  
“Don’t bullshit me, Neal. He sent us your file. What’s he want with you?”  
  
Neal was silent. He couldn’t tell Peter about Kramer. Peter was Militia, the Imperator. The Man. A pipe dream.  
  
Neal had allowed himself to forget, just for a moment what Peter was. He’d let his emotions override the reality of the situation. Mozzie was right – Peter was not a pet. He was dangerous and one word from him could send down a manhunt that would keep them running forever.  
  
“Neal?” Peter’s voice broke through his thoughts. His voice was soft. “Neal, are you in trouble?”  
  
Neal laughed hollowly. “Oh that’s rich, Peter -,” he began, but Peter interrupted him.   
  
“Neal, whatever it is, we can fix it.” Peter’s voice was firm with promise.   
  
 _We can fix it._  Neal had to sit down. Finding a bench, he almost fell as his legs gave out from under him.   
  
“Neal, are you okay? Talk to me.”   
  
“Peter, I – I need to go.” Neal hung up amid Peter’s protests. Taking a deep breath, he ran his hands through his hair. Time had run out and he and Mozzie had some hard decisions to make.  
  
Two hours later he’d made a decent dent in the Laphroaig 18 Year and was watching Mozzie pace the apartment like a mad man.  
  
“And he said Kramer. You’re sure?” Mozzie was vibrating.  
  
“Yeah, Moz, I’m sure.” Neal took another drink of his whiskey and wondered how many more glasses it would take before he could forget Peter’s phone call.  
  
“We’ll need to run then. I can get some IDs made. They won’t hold up for long - .”  
  
“Moz.”  
  
“- but they’ll do for the short term.” Mozzie stopped pacing. “Money. We’ll need money. And transportation.” He started ticking off things on his fingers.  
  
“Moz.” Neal’s voice got louder.  
  
“I’m sure June will lend us some cash, plus the stash we have in -.”  
  
“MOZ!” Neal’s shout finally got through to his friend.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m not running.” His voice was low. “Not this time.”  
  
“Are you CRAZY?” It was Mozzie’s turn to shout. “The Suit has your file!”  
  
“I don’t care. I’m tired of running.”   
  
Mozzie moved over to the table and stared at him.  
  
“What?” Neal wouldn’t meet his eyes. His friend saw too much as it was and Neal knew he couldn’t hide his reason for staying.  
  
“It’s the Suit isn’t it? You’re staying for the Suit and Mrs. Suit.” Mozzie made it sound like an accusation.  
  
“So what if I am, Moz!” It was Neal’s turn to pace the apartment. He turned to Mozzie and said in a hoarse voice. “So what if I am.”  
  
Mozzie regarded him in silence for a moment. “‘Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts,’” he said quietly.  
  
“Oliver Wendall Holmes, Moz?” Neal’s grin was shaky.  
  
“When the quote fits, mon frère.” Mozzie put his hand on Neal’s shoulder. “If you stay, I stay. That’s the deal.”  
  
Neal never appreciated Mozzie more. “Then we stay.”  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
“I asked Neal about Kramer today.” Peter took a bite of the pot roast and decided it needed a bit more pepper. He’d told Elizabeth the other night that he was going to ask Neal about Kramer’s interest in him.   
  
“And?” Elizabeth paused in her meal. “What did he say?”  
  
“Said he didn’t know who he was.”  
  
“And you believe him?”  
  
“Nope.” He sighed. “El, I’ve gotten to where I can tell if he’s just sidestepping a question. This was different. He shut down like he was scared.”  
  
Elizabeth took his hand in hers. “Do you think Kramer hurt him?”   
  
“I don’t know. But Neal hung up on me and I haven’t heard from him since.” Peter felt silly for worrying about a con man, but Neal's reaction when he'd mentioned Kramer's name was so out of character that he couldn't help but be concerned. “I tried calling back but the phone went straight to voicemail.”  
  
“Give him time, hon.” She squeezed his hand.   
  
“El, can you maybe see if you can see him?” He realized that he sounded like a middle schooler with a crush. “Never mind.”  
  
“You’re worried, hon. I get it, I’m worried too.” She let go of his hand and moved her plate out of the way. “Let me see if it’ll work.”  
  
Elizabeth closed her eyes and Peter watched her take a deep breath. Moments later, her face smoothed out from any expression, then a slight smile crept onto her face. She opened her eyes and broke into a grin.  
  
“You saw?”  
  
“Yeah. He’s okay. A bit tipsy if the bottle of Laphroaig that’s on the table is any indication, but he’s fine. He’s talking to his friend.”  
  
“The short guy?” Elizabeth nodded. Peter blew out a sigh of relief.   
  
“Peter, it’ll be okay. Whatever it is, I have a feeling he’ll tell you eventually. Then you’ll fix it. You always do. Now, c’mon. Let’s finish dinner.”  
  
Rationally, Peter was sure that Elizabeth was right, but he just couldn’t get past his gut instinct that things were about to get worse. And unfortunately, his gut was right far too often.   
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Peter was almost asleep when he heard the noise downstairs. Checking to see that Elizabeth was still sleeping, he grabbed his gun and flipped off the safety. Slowly getting out of bed, he quietly padded down the hallway to the staircase.  
  
Listening intently, Peter heard a slight shuffling that wasn’t Satchmo twitching in his dog bed. He made his way stealthily down the stairs, avoiding the second to last step which always squeaked. His back up against the wall, Peter slid over to the light switch.   
  
Flipping it on he yelled, “Freeze!”  
  
“Peter, it’s me! Put down your gun.” Neal stepped out of the shadowy kitchen, his hands slightly raised. “And can you turn the light back off, please?” He gestured at the overhead switch. “I’d rather not scare the neighbors into calling the cops.”   
  
“Goddammit Neal, I almost shot you!” Peter engaged the safety and turned off the lights. “Flip the down lights on in the kitchen.”   
  
The kitchen lights gave off enough light that Peter could see Neal’s face. The younger man looked exhausted.   
  
“You know you could have just called.” Peter made his way to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He held one out to Neal.  
  
“I’d rather have coffee if that’s okay.” Neal took a seat at the dining room table. “And I figured it was about time we met face to face.”  
  
Putting his gun on the counter, Peter popped the top off his beer. Taking a quick drink, he turned on the Keurig. “All we’ve got is dark roast. That okay?”  
  
“Italian?”  
  
“Sorry, no.” Peter smirked at Neal’s grimace. “Some of us don’t own a refined palate like you do, Neal.” He took a mug out of the cupboard and placed it under the spout of the coffee machine and popped in a K-cup.  
  
Neal grinned tiredly. “Your loss, Peter.” He paused. “You know, you’re a lot taller than I thought you would be.”  
  
“Well, you’re more -.”  _Beautiful, sexy, perfect._  “- symmetrical.”  
  
Neal snorted at his comment.  
  
“So – were you just going to sit in my kitchen until morning?” Peter leaned up against the counter and crossed his arms.  
  
“Actually, I was going to call you and tell you I was downstairs,” Neal admitted sheepishly. “Not my smartest idea.” He indicated the gun and Peter laughed.  
  
“Yeah, what with me being licensed to carry that and all.”  
  
Just then, Peter heard footsteps on the stairs. Elizabeth. “Peter, is everything okay?”  
  
“Yeah, hon. Neal just decided to drop by. We’re in the kitchen.”  _Like it was the most normal thing to have a con artist over for coffee at two in the morning._  
  
Elizabeth came in, sleepy and rumpled. “Hello, Neal,” she said, heading over to the teapot to heat up water.  
  
Peter saw Neal glance his way and realized that the last time Neal had actually seen his wife was the night he’d kissed her.  
  
“You can say hello to my wife, Neal. I’m not going to shoot you for that. Arrest you maybe…”  
  
“Peter Jamison Burke, stop that! You are not going to arrest him!” Elizabeth headed over to Neal and gave him a quick hug. “You okay, sweetie? Peter’s not been mean to you, has he?” She sat down across from him at the table.   
  
“Hello, Elizabeth. Sorry for waking you up.” Peter could see the confusion on Neal’s face as he looked back and forth between the Burkes. “And no, he’s been fine.”  
  
Peter had to turn away before Neal saw his grin. Elizabeth in her mother hen mode could be overwhelming - but that’s why he loved her.  
  
“You’ll have to forgive El, Neal. She’s convinced that I’m the big bad wolf determined to wreak havoc.” Peter put his hand by the side of his lips and pretended like Elizabeth couldn’t hear him. “Plus I think she likes you.”   
  
He saw Neal relax as Elizabeth stuck her tongue out.  
  
“Don’t worry, Neal. Peter’s cranky this time of night.”  
  
“I’m pleading the fifth on that. What do you take in your coffee, Neal?”  
  
“Just some milk please.”   
  
Grabbing the milk out of the refrigerator, Peter balanced it, his beer and Neal’s coffee as he headed to sit down at the table.  
  
No one spoke as Neal poured the milk and took a drink.  
  
“Okay, Neal. I think it’s time we talked.” Peter could see Neal’s shoulders stiffen. “Let me preface this by saying, nothing you tell me tonight is going to get you in trouble. Full immunity.”  
  
“You say that now, Peter.” Neal’s voice was mocking. “But you don’t know what I’m going to tell you.”  
  
“Did you kill anyone?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then full immunity.” Peter leaned back and watched him. “Let’s start with Kramer. What’s he want?”  
  
Neal inhaled, then let the air out slowly. “He wants me.”  
  
“You?” This from Elizabeth. “What do you mean, ‘You’?”  
  
“More specifically, he wants my Talent.”  
  
“Why? What’s is it?” Peter leaned forward.   
  
“I can borrow other people’s Talents.”  
  
“Borrow?” Peter’s brow furrowed. “Clarify that.”  
  
“When I touch someone, I’ll get their Talent for a few hours. Whoever I touch will lose their ability for about that same length of time. Here, let me show you.” Neal stood up and walked around the table so he could sit next to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, what’s your Talent?”  
  
“When I touch things I can see the people that have them and where they are.”   
  
“So that’s how you found me.” Neal smiled at her.  
  
“Actually -.” Elizabeth blushed. “I didn’t need to touch anything to find you. My Talent sort of kicked in by itself. That’s why I kept looking for you. It wasn’t normal and I wanted answers.”  
  
“But for the most part, you can turn it on and off, right?”   
  
“Right.”  
  
“Okay. May I?” Neal held his hand out for Elizabeth’s. “I promise it won’t hurt. It just may feel strange – like you have cotton in your head.”  
  
Peter watched as Elizabeth placed her hand in Neal’s. Neal closed his eyes. Elizabeth gasped and jumped like she’d been shocked.  
  
“Okay.” Neal opened his eyes. “Peter, if you would hand me the milk carton.” Peter did as he asked. “Hmm, I can see the store where you bought this, the stockboy – blonde with a nose ring – the driver who hauled this from upstate…” Neal looked at Peter but spoke to Elizabeth. “Now you try.” He handed her the container.  
  
Peter saw Elizabeth try to test her Talent. “Peter, he’s right. It’s not working and my head does feel kind of stuffy.”   
  
“Don’t worry – it’ll come back in a while.”   
  
“Try me.” Neal looked surprised at Peter’s request.  
  
“You don’t believe me?”  
  
“Oh, I believe you. Just humor me, okay?” Peter held his hand out for Neal to take.   
  
“Sure.” Neal took his hand but didn’t close his eyes this time. He kept them trained on Peter. “Ready?”  
  
“Do your worst.” Peter watched Neal concentrate then shake his head.  
  
“Wait, something’s not working. Let me try again.” This time Neal closed his eyes, a frown marring his brow. “It’s not letting me -.”  
  
Peter chuckled. Neal’s eyes flew open.  
  
“You’re doing that – you’re blocking me. How?”  
  
Peter let a lazy grin sneak out. “That’s my Talent, Neal. Blocking. It’s what makes me good at what I do. No undue influence.”  
  
“So you can block me?”   
  
“Seems like it. I wasn’t sure because I’ve never come up against a Talent like yours and I wanted to test it to see.” Peter took another drink of his beer.  
  
“Let’s get back to the topic at hand. I still don’t understand why Kramer wants your Talent.” Peter was trying to put the pieces together but couldn’t come come up with a finished picture.  
  
“Kramer needed me to make him look good.” Neal stared at the coffee mug in his hands. “You know what his Talent is.”  
  
Peter nodded, not liking where this was going.  
  
“With my skill set and my Talent it’s pretty easy for me to - liberate – items from their locations.” He sighed and looked up at Peter. “Kramer needed his division to be impressive, so he forced me to steal things and fence them, then he would arrest the fences and return the stolen merchandise.”  
  
“He Compelled you.” Peter smacked the table in anger. “That sonofa – did he hurt you?” Neal’s silence told Peter what he needed to know. “I’m going to kill him.” Peter couldn’t sit still any longer. He got up and paced the kitchen.  
  
“Why didn’t you leave?” Elizabeth’s voice was soft and Peter looked over to see her hand on Neal’s arm.  
  
“When I wasn’t being compelled to run his schemes, Kramer had me locked up in a facility. ‘For my own safety’, I think was what he said.”  
  
“So how’d you escape?”  
  
“A friend, a bribe, a set of smuggled lockpicks and plain luck.” Neal sipped his coffee and grimaced. “Cold.”  
  
“Here, let me.” Elizabeth got up and held her hand out for Neal’s mug.   
  
“You’re friend – the short guy?” Peter watched as Neal’s eyes followed Elizabeth movements around the kitchen. Strangely, it didn’t bother him like he thought it should.  
  
“Mozzie. But don’t ever let him hear you call him short.”   
  
“I’ll remember that.” Containing his anger against Kramer, Peter sat back down at the table. “Okay, so what are we going to do about Kramer? He’s got one of his guys in my office so we’ve been trying to investigate you very discretely.”   
  
“He’s not going to stop, Peter. Not until he finds me and brings me back.”   
  
“Then we need to make sure he doesn’t do that.” Elizabeth spoke up from where she’d been fixing Neal’s coffee and her tea. “You can make that happen, right Peter?” She came back to the table and sat next to Neal.  
  
“That’s easier said than done, El.” He looked at the two of them. Elizabeth’s face was hopeful, Neal’s guarded. He sighed. “Look, I hate Kramer as much as you do. I’ve seen what he can do with his Talent and it’s wrong. We need to be very careful how we handle it. Give me a couple days to figure something out. In the meantime you need to lay low.” He pointed at Neal. “That means no cons, no thefts, no nothing. I don’t want you on anyone’s radar and I don’t want to have to arrest you. Are we clear?”   
  
“Crystal.” Neal’s smile was brilliant. Peter realized he wanted to do whatever he could to keep that smile on the younger man’s face. “Listen, I better go. It’s really late and I’m sorry I woke you up.”   
  
“You’re staying here.” Elizabeth’s voice cut through his thoughts.   
  
“I can’t. I don’t want to put you out.” Neal rose and headed towards the back door. Peter glanced at Elizabeth and saw a tiny nod of her head.  
  
“Wait, Neal.” Peter grabbed his arm. “El’s right. It’s late and the subway will take forever to get back to June’s. C’mon, you can help me put fresh sheets on the bed.”  
  
“You sure?” Neal looked at Elizabeth, then at him as if waiting for the right words.  
  
Peter met his gaze with a direct one of his own. “I’m sure, Neal.”  _I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life._

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
  
“Thank you, Peter.”  
  
They were making up the bed in the Burke’s guestroom. Neal watched as Peter put pillows in pillowcases with quick, precise movements.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For not going off the deep end when Elizabeth told you I kissed her.”   
  
Peter chuckled. “Oh, I went off the deep end, Neal. But we talked and worked it out.” He tossed Neal a pillow.  
  
“Most men wouldn’t have.” Neal put the pillow at the head of the bed, then unfolded the top sheet.  
  
‘Most men are not married to Elizabeth Mitchell Burke.” Peter’s voice was proud. “She really does like you, Neal.”  
  
There was a pause as the men tucked the corners of the top sheet underneath the mattress, then put the comforter on.  
  
“I like her too, Peter.” Neal knew his voice was quiet, but anything louder felt wrong. He was telling Peter that he liked his wife. And not in the “let’s go out for drinks and dinner” kind of way.  
  
“Why?” Peter’s question threw Neal.  
  
“Why what?”   
  
“Why do you like her?” Peter’s gaze was open and quizzical.   
  
“Well, she’s beautiful, funny, sexy, anyone can see that.”  
  
“That’s not what I’m asking, Neal. Why do  _you_  like her?”   
  
Neal knew he was taking a chance, but he was tired of running, of being alone.   
  
“Because she’s not afraid to touch me.” It came out so low he wasn’t sure that Peter had heard it.   
  
Suddenly Neal was engulfed in a wave of exhaustion. He sat down on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes. The mattress dipped as Peter sat down next to him. He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders.   
  
“Must be tough, having a Talent like you have.” A simple statement. A world of understanding. It was like the dam burst.   
  
“You have no idea!” Neal slumped against Peter, soaking up his warmth, his scent. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had put their arm around him just because. “When people find out what I can do they run the other way. They think I can take their Talents permanently…” He trailed off, his throat tight.  
  
Peter’s hand began rubbing gentle circles in between Neal’s shoulder blades. The tension in Neal’s back began to slowly seep away.  
  
“‘To be able to feel the lightest touch really is a gift.’”  
  
“Henry Ward Beecher?”  
  
“Nope. Christopher Reeve.”  
  
Neal had to laugh. “You’re quoting Superman?”  
  
“Yep.” Peter laughed with him.  
  
“Oh, Mozzie would love you. Once you could convince him that you really aren’t recording his conversations so you can track him by the modulation of his voice, that is.”  
  
“Conspiracy theorist?”  
  
“Professional grade.” Peter dug a knuckle into Neal’s shoulder blade. “Right there. That feels really good.”  
  
“Elizabeth says I have magic hands.” Neal could feel the humor in Peter’s words. “I think she says that so I’ll do the dinner dishes.”  
  
Neal chuckled. “You’re good together.”  
  
“Yeah, well. We work at it.”  
  
“You don’t want to add a Third.” Neal was leading, he knew, but he wanted to hear it directly from Peter.  
  
“What makes you say that?”  
  
“News bites. Your support of the Referendum.”   
  
He heard Peter sigh and felt his hands still.  
  
“I don’t want to be forced into a relationship just because the government says I have to. It’s as simple as that. However, that doesn’t mean that if the right person came along that it wouldn’t work for us.”   
  
Peter sounded like he wanted to say something else, but sighed again instead. “Let me get you something to sleep in. Sweats and a t-shirt okay?” When Peter moved away from him, Neal felt like he’d lost something vital.  
  
He watched Peter leave the room and wondered what it would take for him to be their “right person.”  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
Elizabeth began gathering up the cups and bottles as Neal followed Peter up the stairs. Her mind was in a whirl. Neal Caffrey was upstairs with her husband. Neal Caffrey and Peter Burke. Neal and Peter.  
  
She didn’t know what had possessed her to tell Neal he was staying. She just knew that he needed to be here with them.  
  
Turning off the lights, she quietly headed up to the second floor to check on the men.  _Her men._  She paused in the hallway as she heard them talking, reluctant to interrupt their conversation.  
  
 _“Why do you like her?”  
  
“Well, she’s beautiful, funny, sexy, anyone can see that.”  
  
“That’s not what I’m asking, Neal. Why do YOU like her.”   
  
“Because she’s not afraid to touch me.” _  
  
Her hand flew up to her mouth as she covered the small sob. Neal’s voice was low, raw, anguished. She couldn’t imagine what sort of life would make someone sound that heartbroken. A tear trailed its way down her cheek.  
  
Moments later, she felt Peter wrap her in a hug. “Hon, what’s wrong?”  
  
She just waved in the direction of the guestroom, not trusting herself to speak quite yet.   
  
He looked back towards the doorway and murmured softly, “Yeah, I know.”  
  
Elizabeth hugged him then stepped away, wiping her cheek. She cupped his face in her hands and brought him down for a kiss. She felt his arms close around her and pull her close to him again. Taking strength from him, she ended the kiss with a sigh. Looking into his beautiful brown eyes, she stepped off the cliff.  
  
“Peter Burke, I love you more than life itself, you know that. There’s something happening here between us and Neal. I know you feel it too.”  
  
He glanced back at the room, then met her eyes again. “Yeah.”  
  
“Then trust me, okay?” She saw uncertainty, fear, longing and then love cross his face. He nodded.  
  
Elizabeth took his hand and led them back into the guestroom. Neal was still sitting on the bed, staring at his hands. He looked up when they entered and gave her a weary smile.  
  
“Thanks again for letting me stay, Elizabeth.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” She squeezed Peter’s hand then let go. Taking a mental breath to center herself, she walked over to Neal and stepped in between his knees.  
  
“I want to kiss you.” His mouth parted in a gasp and she saw the confusion and wariness on his face. He unconsciously licked his lips as he gazed at her mouth.   
  
“Elizabeth…” His voice came out as a whisper as he half turned to Peter.  
  
She didn’t stop looking at Neal. “Tell him it’s okay, Peter.” She knew the exact moment when Peter nodded. Neal’s eyes widened, then locked back on hers. He licked his lips again.  
  
“Can I kiss you, Neal?” She leaned in to him until their mouths were almost touching. “Please?”  
  
“Oh God…yes…Elizabeth…” She heard him moan as he closed the distance between them and crushed her lips with his. He devoured her mouth like a starving man, biting and nibbling and licking. Elizabeth felt his hands cradle her head, his fingers wrapping themselves in her hair, pulling her in to straddle his leg.  
  
She let herself sink into Neal’s kisses, losing track of time as she tasted him – coffee and desperation and need. He bit her lip, then sucked the sting away. Closing her eyes, she rode the waves of electricity thrumming through her as she began to rub against his thigh, feeling the dampness slicking her.   
  
“Neal...,” Elizabeth breathed into his lips. He responded with a low growl, trailing kisses along her jaw until he found the sensitive point on her neck where he had kissed her before. He grazed his teeth along the spot, making her moan. “Yah…right there…”  
  
Neal’s hands left her hair and began a slow journey, caressing her shoulders, her back, her waist. Thumbs rubbing her arms, fingers tracing her face, every touch leaving points of fire on her skin.  
  
She whimpered, throwing her head back to give Neal better access as he licked the hollow of her throat, his hands skating up the sides of her body.   
  
She felt him pause and smile against her skin. “I think someone is enjoying this as much as we are.”  
  
Elizabeth opened her eyes to see Neal gazing at her, his eyes hooded with desire. He nodded slightly and she turned her head to see Peter still standing in the doorway.  
  
Peter’s eyes were a mirror of Neal’s, glittering darkly as he watched them. He licked his lips, his hand pressing against the crotch of his sleep pants.  
  
“God, El,” he ground out hoarsely. “The two of you…”  
  
Neal spoke. “Come here, Peter.” Elizabeth felt the solid heat as he came up behind her.   
  
“Help me.” Neal grasped the bottom of her sleep shirt, Peter lifting her arms to make it easier. Pulling it off, they bared her between them. Peter leaned in and tilted her head. He brought his face down so he could kiss her.   
  
Where Neal was exploration and newness, Peter was familiarity and sensuality. He slowly unraveled her as he took his time, running his tongue against her lips, nibbling and sucking.   
  
She hooked her arms around Peter’s neck to bring him closer. “Touch me,” she whispered and heard him chuckle against her mouth.  
  
She expected Peter’s hand to caress her. Instead, he broke away and pulled her back against him. She could feel his cock pushing against his pants, against her skin. She wanted to turn around and take him in her mouth, but Peter held her tight.   
  
“Watch him.” Elizabeth looked on in a daze as Peter took his hand and nestled it against Neal’s face. Slowly he rubbed his thumb against Neal’s bottom lip, coaxing him to open to his touch.   
  
Elizabeth whimpered as Neal sucked Peter’s thumb into his mouth. The sight of it sent arousal clenching throughout her body. She could hear Neal moaning quietly. “That’s right, Neal, make it nice and wet. Want to show you what gets her hot.”  
  
She followed Peter’s fingers as he withdrew his thumb from Neal’s mouth. Peter’s voice was mesmerizing as he told Neal what turned her on.  
  
‘El, loves this.” Peter circled her nipple then pulled. “Don’t be afraid to tug.” He pinched, making her squirm with the sensations coursing through her.  
  
Neal inhaled sharply, his eyes on Peter’s movements. Elizabeth could feel him unconsciously rocking his hips, his cock hard against her leg. He brought his hand to Peter’s face and slid his finger and thumb between Peter’s lips.   
  
“Fuck, Peter.” Neal bucked up against her and she watched him lose himself in the wet heat of Peter’s mouth. Moments later, he pulled his fingers out and circled her other breast, tweaking the nipple into a hard point.   
  
She mewled as Neal gently tortured her, tugging and pulling.   
  
“You like that, huh?” Peter’s voice soft in her ear. “Neal touching you?” Elizabeth cried out as Peter pinched harder. “Maybe he should use his mouth. Do you want that, El?”  
  
“Yah…uh huh.” Elizabeth was so wrapped up in the sensations of both men’s hands on her breasts that she couldn’t form a coherent sentence.   
  
“Can’t hear you, hon. What was that?” Elizabeth squealed in frustration. Peter chuckled darkly. “You need to tell Neal what you want.”  
  
“God…Neal…want your mouth on me, please.” Elizabeth heard the pleading in her tone but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel Neal’s lips against her flesh.   
  
“Well, I never like to disappoint a lady.” Neal’s voice was rough.  
  
“She likes a little pain with her pleasure so you can use your teeth.” In her haze of want, Elizabeth could tell that Peter was enjoying himself.  
  
“Ah – naughty girl.” Neal’s smile was wicked. He moved in deliberately, running his fingers over her breast again, intentionally avoiding her nipple for a brief moment. He bent his head to capture the tip, flicking his tongue as it hardened. “Mmmmm, tastes good.” Elizabeth felt the edge of his teeth before he licked across the top with his tongue. The friction and the pain made her squirm.   
  
Elizabeth tried to arch into Neal’s touch, but Peter held her down. “Nuh uh, hon. No moving. Just enjoy it.”   
  
“Damn you, Peter.” She gasped as the two men chuckled, then squealed as Neal bit down. “God, feels so good.”   
  
Elizabeth reveled in the sensations, but she needed more. She needed them closer, needed them naked. Twining her hands through Neal’s hair she pulled him up to her mouth.   
  
Slanting her lips over his, she thoroughly kissed him until they were both breathless. “Clothes off, now,” she gasped.  
  
“You heard the lady, Caffrey. Strip.” Peter backed away to give them room.   
  
In a swift move, Neal flipped Elizabeth over and pressed her down into the bed. He kissed her on her nose and stood up.  
  
“Wait!” Elizabeth rose up on her elbows. “I want to see you kiss him first, Peter.”  
  
“You do, do you?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb.  
  
“Don’t you dare tease me, Peter Burke. I may be horny but I  _will_  cut you off. I want to see if the two of you look as good for real as you did in my fantasy.”  
  
Neal burst out laughing. “I think you need to listen to your wife, Peter. Especially since she’s been fantasizing about us.” He moved into Peter’s space. Tilting his head, he asked, “Can you see, Elizabeth?”  
  
“Perfectly.”   
  
Neal ran his hand up Peter’s chest. “What do you say we give your wife what she wants?”   
  
Peter answered with a growl as he grabbed Neal and crushed their lips together. He cupped his hands around Neal’s face and kissed him with an intensity that left Elizabeth breathless. They molded their bodies into a single sculpture, thighs, hips and chests fused.  
  
“Wanted this…so much.” Neal’s voice was pleading as he broke away. Peter flipped them and slammed him against the wall, grinding their hips together. A picture fell, glass shattering, but neither one noticed. They were wrapped up in each other, tongues mating, devouring.   
  
Neal’s head fell back against the wall as Peter kissed down his neck, biting and sucking and making him moan.   
  
Elizabeth’s mouth watered as she watched them. Her entire body tingled. Lisa was right. Peter and Neal together was EXACTLY like her own personal porn movie. And they were just kissing with their clothes on.   
  
She slid her hand into her sleep shorts and touched her clit. She was soaking wet and the pressure of her fingers sent electrical currents through her. Staring at them, she began to breathe heavily as she concentrated on the sensations in her pussy.  
  
“Peter, I think Elizabeth is starting without us.” Neal was peering around Peter’s shoulder, his lips swollen from Peter’s assault.   
  
“Oh no, El. You are not going to get off that way.” Peter quickly kissed Neal again and strode over to the edge of the bed.  
  
Taking her hand, he pulled her up off the bed and slung her over his shoulder.  
  
“Peter Burke, put me down!” Elizabeth pounded her fists futilely on his back.   
  
“Nope. Going to the big bed where we have more room. C'mon Caffrey, let's go ravish my wife.”   
  
“No argument there.”  
  
Peter left the room carrying Elizabeth, Neal trailing them with a grin on his face. She glared at Neal through her hair. “Aren't you supposed to help me or something?”  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“I hate you.” She stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
“Remember that when I’m sucking on your clit.” He winked when she whimpered.  
  
When they entered the master bedroom, Peter flipped Elizabeth onto the bed where she landed with a bounce. She regarded them both as she scooted up to the headboard. Peter in his sleep pants and faded Harvard T-shirt. Neal dressed in a forest green button down and black pants, looking amazingly put together considering he’d just been manhandled. Staring at her like she was dessert.   
  
“Okay, gentlemen, you both have entirely too many clothes on.” She waved her hand in the air. “Make them go away.”  
  
Neal started to unbutton his shirt when Peter stepped behind him. “Let me,” he whispered.  
  
The atmosphere changed with those words.   
  
Peter slowly pushed each button out of its hole, running his fingers under the fabric. Neal’s nostrils flared at his touch. Both men’s eyes were locked on her face – Peter’s dark and wanting, Neal’s raw and heated. Neal’s shirt fell to the ground, followed by his undershirt.  
  
Elizabeth crawled to sit on the edge of the bed. She wanted to touch Neal’s skin, taste the body that she’d seen in her shower vision. She held a hand out and Neal leaned into her touch.   
  
Running her hand across his chest, she tweaked a nipple and he hissed, “Do that again.” Coaxing it hard with her fingers, she moved in to lick it, then bit down like he had before. “Fuck!”   
  
She laughed wickedly. “Turnabout is foreplay.” He gazed down at her, blue eyes hungry. Elizabeth soothed the bite with a swipe of her tongue. “Still too many clothes on. Help me, Peter.” Between the two of them they divested Neal of the rest of his clothes.   
  
Neal stood nude in front of her. He was beautiful. Lines and planes and angles. A body to make the Masters weep. His eyes hooded, cock at half-mast. She ran a hand softly over his stomach and felt him tremble. Moving down, she gripped his cock, felt the weight.   
  
Slowly she pumped him, his dick hardening. Neal moaned and shuddered, falling against Peter for support as he arched into her hand.   
  
“So beautiful.” Peter’s voice was reverent. “Neal…” His arm wrapped around the younger man, giving him support.   
  
“I want you to touch him, Peter.”  
  
Peter’s other hand joined Elizabeth’s on Neal’s cock. She caressed the head as Peter gripped him, jacking him slowly. Feather light touches on his balls, back up to the head, slicking him slightly with small beads of precome that started to seep from his slit.  
  
She could hear Peter’s whispers. Telling Neal how gorgeous he was, how hot it was to see Elizabeth caressing him, how incredible Neal felt in his hand. Neal’s eyes were closed and he was panting, focusing on Peter’s voice, on the feel of their touches.  
  
“El…” Peter’s voice was low. “Want to see his cock in your mouth.” Neal moaned at his words.  
  
“Do you want that, Neal? Do you want to put your cock in my mouth?” Elizabeth breathed on the tip and watched it jump. “Do you want me to take my lips, press them against you? Slowly slide my tongue around your head? Take all of you in until you hit the back of my throat?”  
  
“Fuck, Elizabeth.” Neal thrust against her lips, his dick instinctively seeking entrance. “Please…need your mouth…”  
  
Neal keened when Elizabeth wrapped her lips around his dick, tongue licking the bundle of nerves under his cockhead. She grazed him with her teeth, reveling in his hiss. Elizabeth loved his taste, different from Peter, but familiar. She swirled her tongue across his slit, trying to capture more of him.   
  
She took Peter’s hand and slid it to the base of Neal’s cock, giving her the position she needed to slowly caress Neal’s shaft with her mouth. Each movement inching Neal deeper into her throat until she was completely full of him.  
  
“Elizabeth…” She looked up at Neal through her lashes. He was staring at her, eyes wild, body trembling. “God…”  
  
“She loves it when you fuck her mouth, Neal.” Peter guided Neal’s hands to Elizabeth’s head and the two of them wove their fingers in her hair. “Like this.”   
  
Their movements started out slowly, Peter using his hips to push Neal forward, Elizabeth’s hand on Neal’s thigh pushing him gently away. Rocking back and forth, the wet sounds of sucking and Neal’s whimpers the only sounds in the room.  
  
“Faster,” Peter whispered, holding Elizabeth’s head still, pulling slightly on her hair. She hummed at the tension.  
  
“Fuck! Do that again!” Neal’s rhythm stuttered when she hummed again. “Feels so good.” He thrust in again, faster. “Have to…oh God…don’t want to hurt you…”  
  
“Don’t worry, you won’t.” Peter crooned. “Just let go.”   
  
Elizabeth looked up just in time to see Peter pinch Neal’s nipple. She hollowed her cheeks and pulled Neal towards her, feeling him hit the back of her throat. The combination of the pain and the pleasure sent him barreling toward the edge.   
  
“God, Elizabeth…I can’t…gonna…” He lost control, shoving in so hard she was barely able to keep her balance. Hands twisted in her hair, he jerked, spilling into her mouth, salty spurts that she swallowed as quickly as she could.  
  
Peter caught him as he collapsed and eased him onto the bed next to her.   
  
“You okay?” She reached out and pushed a sweaty curl off his forehead. Neal took her hand and kissed her palm.  
  
“Better than okay,” he said softly, moving closer so he could wrap himself around her. “God, Elizabeth…that was…”  
  
“Magical?” Peter climbed on the bed next to them and stretched out next to Neal.  
  
“Yeah.” Neal idly began stroking her back. “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She leaned down to kiss him, knowing that he would taste himself on her lips.  
  
Their kisses were softer this time, less urgent. Elizabeth was content to let Neal explore. He pressed kisses against her lips, her eyes, her forehead. Her desire, which had been sidestepped by Neal’s need, spiraled up at his touch.  
  
Neal reached for her, pulling her over him so she was tucked against Peter.   
  
“I want to see all of you.” He tugged off her sleep shorts and tossed them into the corner of the room. Turning back, he gazed at her, his eyes slowly perusing her body.   
  
Elizabeth suddenly felt shy under his scrutiny and moved to cover herself. “Don’t.” Neal stopped her hand and brought it to his lips, caressing her wrist with the tip of his tongue. He stretched out so they were touching, hip to hip, legs tangled. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?”  
  
“When I first saw you, the sunlight set your hair on fire.” He picked up a lock of her hair, separating the strands. “So many colors.” He chuckled quietly, looking at Peter. “I wanted to paint her. I needed to paint her.”  
  
Turning back to Elizabeth, his fingers brushed her lips. “Then you smiled and I knew I would never be able to capture that. There was no way I could do you justice.” Neal’s hand cupped her cheek. “But I wanted you to think of me. That’s why I gave you the origami. Kind of selfish.”  
  
“I’m glad you did, Neal.” Peter’s voice was smoky. “So glad.” He leaned over her and kissed Neal, nipping at his lip before he teased his mouth open with his tongue. Elizabeth was mesmerized watching the two of them.   
  
“Peter?” Neal kissed the corner of Peter’s mouth. “Why are Elizabeth and I the only ones naked?”  
  
“Because I am a very patient man.” Peter broke away and smiled at him. “And we haven’t ravished my wife yet.”  
  
“I think I remember something being said about that.” Neal stretched, rubbing his body against hers. “Where do you think we should start?”   
  
“How about here?” Peter kissed her, tasting like Neal. “Or here?” He nuzzled her neck.  
  
“Or we could start here?” Neal captured one of her nipples in his mouth. “Mmmmm.” He swirled his tongue around the tip, enticing it to harden. “Yeah, start here.” He tilted his head giving Peter room.   
  
The two of them worshipped her breasts, taking turns licking and sucking, wrapping their tongues around her nipples and each other, sending frissons of desire throughout her body. Peter stole Neal’s lips, then gave them back to her. Neal’s hand caressed Peter’s face, then her body. They knew she was watching and they put on a show for her.  
  
She whimpered, couldn’t keep herself from squeezing her thighs tight – as if that pressure could make her come. Her hands moved down her body towards her pussy – she needed friction, pressure, anything, to end the ache.  
  
“No.” Neal captured her wrists and pulled them up for Peter to take. “Touching yourself is not allowed. That’s my job.” His voice was dark.  
  
Elizabeth mewled at the thought of Neal’s artist’s fingers dipping inside of her, stroking, his thumbs circling her clit, putting exquisite pressure right where she needed.  
  
“God, then touch me!” she snapped, her lust getting the better of her.   
  
“Ah, ah - pushy girls don’t get to come,” Peter had both her wrists encompassed in one hand as he tweaked her nipple. “I think you need to apologize.”  
  
Neal chuckled. “Maybe she needs some incentive.” Painstakingly he moved down her body, nibbling and biting, swishing his tongue in her navel, caressing her hips, his fingers drawing patterns on her skin. Touching her everywhere except where she needed him to touch.   
  
Elizabeth bit her lip as Neal slowly drove her mad. She wanted to grab him, to put him where she wanted him, to feel his mouth on her clit, but Peter held her captive. She looked pleadingly at her husband.  
  
“Please, Peter…”  
  
“Please what, hon?” Peter kissed the side of her neck, licking the place behind her ear.   
  
“Please let me go.” Elizabeth squirmed, trying to encourage Neal to move lower. He did the exact opposite of what she wanted, moving back up to lap at her breasts with his tongue.   
  
“Why should I do that, El?” Peter shifted, moving himself behind her. Holding her wrists, imprisoning her to Neal’s ministrations.   
  
“Peter….” Elizabeth’s voice rose as Neal began his downward assault on her body. She gasped as he sucked a bruise onto her hip. “Not fair.”  
  
“You know I don’t play fair, hon.” Peter chuckled. “And obviously neither does Neal, it seems.”  
  
Neal hummed in agreement, sending vibrations right to the core of her. She could feel the dampness, her pussy wet from arousal. “Please…I’m sorry!” She sobbed, begging, anything to get him to continue.   
  
Neal continued his kissing and nibbling, finally settling in between her legs. His hands caressed her thighs, spreading her open for him.  
  
Elizabeth watched Neal lick his lips as he stared at her.  
  
“Beautiful,” he breathed. His fingers gently parted her outer lips. She felt his breath across her hot skin. Slowly he circled her clit with his thumb, just barely touching. Elizabeth bucked at the sensations spiraling through her.   
  
She could hear Peter’s rough breathing in her ear as he unconsciously mirrored her movements. His cock was hard against her back, his sleep pants damp against her skin.   
  
Elizabeth felt gloriously helpless. Peter’s body caging her, Neal teasing her.   
  
“Please Neal...want to feel your fingers inside me.”   
  
Peter jerked at her words. “Fuck, El.” Then – “Do it.”  
  
Neal slowly caressed the entrance to her pussy, sliding first one finger then two inside her. He widened them, stretching her slightly.   
  
“Oh God…” Elizabeth cried out as Neal’s fingers hooked and brushed her G-spot. “Right there…” She writhed as he stroked her, grinding her hips into his hand.  
  
Just when she was headed to the brink, he pulled back.  
  
“NO!” She moaned at the loss of him, but he hushed her with a kiss on her thigh.  
  
“Not going anywhere, Elizabeth…need to taste you.”  
  
He bowed his head and ran his tongue squarely over her clit, pushing his fingers rhythmically back inside her. Over and over.   
  
Elizabeth turned her face to Peter’s shoulder to keep from screaming. Neal’s tongue and fingers expertly drove her to the brink, then brought her back more times than she could count, never letting her fall over the edge into orgasm.   
  
“Neal…I can’t…please…” She moaned, begging for him to let her come.   
  
He pulled away slightly. “Can I?” He was seeking permission from Peter.  
  
“Fuck, yes. Wanna see her fall apart for you.”   
  
Elizabeth knew she was done when Peter spoke. Neal thrust his fingers into her, touching and stretching and stroking, his mouth molten heat against her clit. Peter gripped her wrists, forcing her to be still, to feel everything Neal was giving her. Whispering in her ear.   
  
“C’mon El. Come for me.”   
  
Eyes wide, locked onto Peter’s face, Elizabeth fell, shattering into millions of fragments. Peter covered her lips with his, drinking in her moans as Neal’s tongue and fingers wrung every ounce of pleasure from her body. She sobbed as the aftershocks shook her.   
  
Peter murmured reassurances into her lips as Neal gentled her shuddering form. Moving up the bed, he wrapped himself around them, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder. Elizabeth burrowed into their arms, sated and content and loved.  
  
They lay like that for a time. Sometimes talking, sometimes not. Always touching. But real life had a way of intruding and Elizabeth decided she was thirsty. Scooting out from between the two of them, she headed to the bathroom, waving off their comments about her ass.  
  
She turned on the faucet and observed herself in the mirror while she waited for the water to run cold.  
  
Her lips were kiss-swollen, her face flushed, her hair wild. She was the epitome of debauched. Elizabeth decided that she liked the look. Filling up the glass, she drank deeply, then walked back to the bedroom. A big smile crossed her face as she entered the room.  
  
Peter and Neal had started without her.  
  
They were oblivious to her entry, completely wrapped up in each other. Peter was leaning over Neal, caressing his face, worshipping his lips and neck. Neal’s head was thrown back in delight, eyes closed, smiling when Peter nipped at his jawbone, running his hands over Peter’s shoulders, sneaking under the cotton to touch his chest and back. His cock bouncing as he slowly rocked against Peter’s thigh. Getting harder the more Peter kissed him.  
  
It was beautiful.   
  
“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?” she teased.  
  
They broke apart, both men blushing slightly at being caught making out. Elizabeth couldn’t help but giggle.   
  
“You know, Peter, it might work better if you took your clothes off.”  
  
“I couldn’t help it. He’s just so…” Peter waved helplessly at Neal’s nakedness.   
  
“Yeah, I know.” Elizabeth moved to the overstuffed chair in the corner and sat down, grabbing the throw to drape around her.  
  
“Don’t you want to come back to bed?” Neal tilted his head so he could see her.  
  
“Oh no. I’m going to sit here and thoroughly enjoy watching the two of you fuck.” She pulled her legs up and tucked them under the blanket. “That means you’re gonna have to get undressed, hon.”  
  
“And it’s about time.” Neal wriggled out from under Peter and made himself comfortable against the headboard. “No insult intended, Elizabeth, but I have been waiting to see Peter naked for, oh…weeks now, I think.” He stroked his cock as he watched Peter stand up and take off his t-shirt.  
  
Elizabeth knew how good Peter looked without his clothes. If Neal was Michelangelo’s David, slender and stunning, then Peter was Rodin’s Thinker, solid and strong. It was obvious by Neal’s gaze that he appreciated the view. He crawled towards Peter and knelt before him.  
  
“I want to sculpt you.” His words were simple as he ran his hands over Peter’s body, caressing his pectorals, his waist. Neal placed a kiss on Peter’s chest and hooked his fingers into the top of Peter’s sleep pants, easing them down.  
  
Elizabeth waited for Neal’s reaction when he saw the size of Peter’s cock.  
  
“Holy fuck, Peter!” Neal actually gaped. He turned to Elizabeth. “Well that certainly explains your lack of a gag reflex.”  
  
Elizabeth just smiled and shrugged.  
  
Neal’s gaze was predatory as he lay back on the pillows, his hand on his cock, languidly pumping himself. “I have to admit, Peter, I’m very impressed. We’re going to have to do a lot of prep to get that monster inside me.”  
  
Elizabeth felt her pussy lips tingle as Peter growled and launched himself towards the bed. This was exactly what she’d been hoping for. She settled herself in to watch.   
  
Looming over Neal, Peter batted away his hand and slotted his thigh in between Neal’s legs. He rubbed against Neal, pushing his thigh against Neal’s cock and balls. “Want to fuck you. Wanted it since the first day I saw your picture.”  
  
“God, yes.” Neal reached back between them and grabbed Peter’s cock. “Need you to fuck me.” Peter groaned as Neal squeezed, pumping his hand up and down.  
  
“Lube - need lube.” Peter reared up and looked around in dismay. “Damn it, where’s the lube?”  
  
“Nightstand drawer next to the condoms.” Elizabeth spoke matter-of-factly.   
  
Peter stared at her in surprise because they hadn’t used condoms in years. “You bought condoms?”  
  
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at his incredulous expression. “What? A girl can hope.”  
  
Neal burst into laughter. “God, I love your wife.”  
  
“I’m kind of fond of her, too.” Grinning, Peter leaned over and opened the drawer, grabbing the lube and a condom packet. Tossing them on the bed, he sat back on his heels, his hands on Neal’s hips.  
  
“God damn, Neal Caffrey…” He shook his head. “Who’d have ever thought you’d wind up in my bed?”  
  
“It’s a good place to be, Peter Burke.” Neal laced their fingers together and brought their hands to his mouth for a kiss. He took two of Peter’s fingers and sucked them quickly between his lips. Sloppy with his saliva, he popped them out of his mouth and brought them down between his legs. “No more talking.”  
  
“Lube?” Peter’s voice was questioning.  
  
“Not yet. Want to feel it.”  
  
Peter moaned, his dick jerking at the roughness of Neal’s voice. “Okay.”  
  
Elizabeth felt her arousal pool in her belly as she saw Peter slowly press his finger inside Neal. Neal’s gasp of pleasure/pain had her fingers dipping themselves into her pussy, feeling them breach her as Neal felt Peter’s finger.   
  
“Damn it. Right there.” Neal hissed, his hips rising up off the bed as Peter stretched him with one then two fingers. Licking his other hand, Peter wrapped it around Neal’s cock, stroking steadily. Neal whined at the touch.  
  
Elizabeth couldn’t take her eyes off the two of them. Peter’s hand pumping Neal’s dick, his fingers plunging in and out of Neal’s hole, Neal gripping the sheets, shoving himself closer to take more of Peter’s digits. Gazes locked, breath harsh, totally ignoring her as they became enthralled in each other.  
  
She jammed her fingers deeper into her pussy, her thumb pressing down on her clit. They weren’t even fucking yet and she was ready to come again.   
  
“God damn, Peter!” Elizabeth saw Neal writhe and keen - she knew Peter must have hit his prostate for him to have that reaction.   
  
“What’s wrong Neal? Too much?” Peter chuckled darkly.   
  
“Not enough!” Neal growled. “When I told you I wanted you to fuck me, I meant it!”   
  
“Hand me the lube.”   
  
Neal snagged the bottle and gave it to Peter, whining a bit in frustration when Peter took his hand off his dick.  
  
“Gonna be a bit cold.” Peter pulled out his fingers and coated them with lube. “Not done with you yet, though. Still need to get you ready for me.” He added a third finger and pushed back in.   
  
“Toppy bastard.” Neal whimpered as Elizabeth watched Peter twist and scissor his fingers. He pulled Peter down and slanted his lips across his mouth. “I like toppy bastards.”   
  
A moan escaped Elizabeth as she brushed her clit, her other hand pinching her nipple.  
  
Neal’s eyes strayed to her. “Peter, I think your wife is enjoying herself.”   
  
“Are you, El?”   
  
“Hell yes, but you two better start fucking soon or I’m going to finish without you!”  
  
“God forbid that should happen.” Peter eased his fingers out of Neal, sat back and took himself in hand, stroking up and down.  
  
“Here.” Neal ran his fingers behind his balls, smoothing some of the lube on his fingers, and caressed the crown of Peter’s dick. “Want you hard for me.” He coasted down Peter’s cock, matching their strokes.  
  
“Damn…your hand…so good.” Peter leaned over for the condom. Ripping the packet open, he slid it down his length. He pushed Neal back onto the bed. Adding more slickness, he teased him with the head of his dick.  
  
“El, you should see him, all spread out and ready for my cock.” Peter pressed in, slowly. “Greedy…”  
  
“Peter…” Neal hissed as Peter opened him up. He paused, a look of concern on his face.   
  
“You okay?”   
  
“Just….wait. Fuck, Peter. Hurts so good…gotta go slow.” Neal rocked his hips, pulling Peter inside, inch by inch, working him until he was completely seated. “Fuck…” he breathed.   
  
“Tell me, Peter. Tell me how it feels to be inside him.” Elizabeth’s voice was raw. She stilled her fingers, the least little pressure would send her spiraling into another orgasm.  
  
“Oh God, El, it feels amazing. He’s so tight.” She watched Peter start moving slowly, thrusting into Neal completely, then pulling out until just the head of his cock was inside.   
  
“Tell Neal what you want to do to him.” She began hovering over her clit, light touches to keep her on edge.   
  
“God, Neal, wanna fuck you till you can't walk. Want you to come so hard you can taste it.” Peter flipped Neal’s legs over his shoulders and began shoving in faster, snapping his hips. “Want you to scream my name.”  
  
Neal moaned and whimpered and cursed, calling Peter a bastard then begging him to fuck him harder. Elizabeth heard him sob as Peter hit his prostate, taking him apart with every thrust. She was drenched, fingers soaked with her juices, as she watched Peter pound into Neal like a jackhammer.   
  
“Fuck, Neal…feels so fucking good…” Peter moaned the words. Neal grabbed his legs and pulled up, allowing Peter to fuck deeper into him. Elizabeth began pistoning her fingers in and out of her pussy, matching Peter’s thrusts. She dropped her other hand to her clit and pinched, keening as she drowned herself in white-hot waves of pleasure.  
  
Her moans were the catalyst. Peter came, Neal’s name torn from his lips, Neal moments behind him, threads of hot come hitting their chests.   
  
Elizabeth looked on, bleary-eyed, as Peter carefully pulled out of Neal, disposed of the condom and grabbed his t-shirt to clean the two men up. She was still post-orgasmicly lethargic when Peter came over to the chair to pick her up and bring her back to the bed.   
  
Neal held open his arms for her to come to him. As she nestled her head on his shoulder, Neal pulled her leg across his body. Peter climbed into the bed, covering them up with the blanket before he moved in behind her.  
  
“Wow.” Elizabeth whispered the word. “That was…”  
  
“Yeah.” Neal’s voice was low and she felt Peter nod. She felt Neal kiss her temple. “Thank you.”  
  
She raised her hand and softly caressed his face. She knew she didn’t need to respond this time. “Sleep,” she said instead. He obediently closed his eyes.  
  
Elizabeth smiled when she felt both men’s bodies relax as they fell into slumber. Definitely  _her men_. She closed her eyes and let the sounds of their steady breathing spiral her down into sleep.

 

@*@*@*@*@

  
It was almost dawn. Neal finished dressing quietly so as not to wake Peter and Elizabeth. He needed to leave in order to put some things into play as a backup. He knew Peter would do whatever he could, but he also knew from experience that things could go wrong in a heartbeat.   
  
He picked up his shoes, intending to walk down the stairs in his socks, when Peter shifted, mumbling what he thought was  _Neal._  
  
Hearing his name on Peter’s lips, so different from earlier when Peter shouted it as he came, made Neal realize he couldn’t just leave.   
  
He padded over to Elizabeth’s desk and found a piece of stationary and a pencil. Folding it quickly, he wrote a message. Going back to the edge of the bed, he slipped it between Peter’s pillows. Looking at his peaceful face, Neal couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on Peter’s temple.  
  
“Love you,” he whispered before heading downstairs to put on his shoes and let himself out.   
  
He walked quickly down the street, head down, thinking about how things could change on a dime. Hoping that Peter could fix the situation with Kramer without too much trouble.   
  
Lost in his thoughts, he missed the figure watching him from the shadows.  
  
Stepping into the street, Curtis Hagen held the phone to his ear.  
  
“It’s Hagen. I found Caffrey, and you’re never going to believe where….”  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Peter woke to the closing of the front door. He knew Neal would leave, just as he knew he would be back. Everything was different, but for now, they had to pretend that nothing had changed. It was the only way to keep Neal safe from Kramer.  
  
Peter thought about Elizabeth and Neal, about what he would have to do, how he would have to lie, to protect them. He had no qualms about doing that. It’s what you did for those you loved.   
  
He rolled over, tucking his hand under the pillow and heard the crinkling of paper. Pulling it out, he found an origami crane. Neal. He smiled, knowing there would be some sort of message. He found it penciled in on the wings.  
  
 _For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul._  
  
Peter put the crane on the nightstand and closed his eyes, smile still playing on his lips. The morning with its new worries would come early enough, but for right now, everything was perfect.  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
Peter called Diana and Jones into his office right after lunch. Shutting the door, he handed them file folders.  
  
“Take that file with you when you leave and work on it as openly as you can today. It’s your cover.”  
  
“Caffrey?” Diana guessed.  
  
“Right. Seems as though there’s been a rash of small thefts in San Francisco that may or may not be linked to him. I want you to confirm that connection and make sure Fowler knows all about it.” He leaned back and regarded them both. “The sooner I can get him out of my city, the happier I’ll be.”  
  
“No problem, Peter.” Jones grinned. “I’ll make it look so enticing he’ll have bought his ticket by the end of the day.”  
  
“That’s what I like to hear. Now go work your magic. Diana, one more thing.”  
  
Peter waited until Jones had left and motioned for Diana to close the door again.  
  
“Diana, I need for you to do something for me. But I want you to understand that what I’m about to ask you to do, if it were ever found out, could ruin your career.”  
  
“What is it?”   
  
“I need for you to pull any surveillance that might in any way relate to Neal and get rid of it. If you don’t feel right doing it, I’ll understand.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Boss, it’s already been done.” Peter’s jaw dropped at her statement.  
  
“What do you mean, done?”  
  
“Blake and I pulled and ‘accidentally’ deleted all the audio and video footage we have on Caffrey.” She made air quotes. “We figured it wouldn’t look good to have the Boss’s boyfriend under Militia surveillance.”  
  
“Boyfriend? Wait, what?” Peter was sure his face was frozen in an expression of utter shock. “What makes you think Caffrey’s my boyfriend?”  
  
“Um…the Yankees tickets, pizza, lunches, Satchmo’s basket.” She ticked the items off on her fingers. “Actually Jones was the one who figured it out.”  
  
“Figured what out?” Peter was still stuck on her ‘boyfriend’ comment.   
  
“That it was Neal sending everything and that he was flirting with you. Jones said the tipoff was the movie tickets.”  
  
“Why the movie tickets?”  
  
“Because, Boss -.” She grinned. “You have no idea who James Cameron is.”  
  
Peter stared at her a minute and started to laugh. “Great! My entire staff knows that Caffrey was flirting with me.” He shook his head.   
  
“Not your entire staff. Just me, Blake and Jones. We kept it to ourselves.”   
  
“Small mercies.” He fell silent, thinking about what Diana had just revealed.  
  
“Boss?” Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “I may be overstepping, but since Neal’s been in the picture, you’ve laughed more, been more relaxed. He’s good for you.”  
  
“He’s a thief.” Peter knew it was a token protest.  
  
“Yeah well, we can’t all be perfect,” she said wryly and he laughed again. “Seriously, Peter, if he makes you and Elizabeth happy, then you should seize the opportunity.”  
  
“Carpe Diem?”  
  
“Whatever works.” She opened his office door. “Time for me to do my job.”  
  
As she left, Peter opened his desk drawer and took out the origami crane he’d brought from home. Reading the words Neal had written, he realized Diana was right. Neal was good for them.   
  
Now all he had to do was keep it that way.  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Peter’s phone rang while he was in the middle of completing an expense report. He might be Imperator of New York, but he still had to file paperwork.  
  
“This is Burke.”  
  
“Hello, Petey.” Kramer’s voice was smooth – his typical breathy whine.  
  
“Phil.” Report forgotten, Peter stood up, filled with a sickening sense of anxiety. “What’s going on?”  
  
“Just wanted to check in with you, Petey. Let you know we’ve found Caffrey.”   
  
“You found Caffrey?” Peter tensed, a cold feeling starting in the pit of his stomach. “Where?”  
  
“Oh, I haven’t confirmed that quite yet. But I have someone here that I’m sure will help me with that little detail.”  
  
Peter heard the phone being switched to speaker mode, then a voice choked with tears. “…Peter…?”  
  
“Elizabeth?  _Oh God!_  Kramer had Elizabeth. “El?”   
  
“Peter…he wants me to find Neal.” Elizabeth was sobbing. He heard Satchmo growling and whining in the background.   
  
“Kramer, you asshole. Leave her alone!”  
  
“And why would I do that, Petey? Her Talent is exactly what I need to bring my boy back home. Except she’s not cooperating very well. Let me see if I can change that.” Peter heard some shuffling. Then Kramer spoke again.   
  
 _“Hurt.”_  
  
Elizabeth screamed.   
  
“Goddammit, Kramer! Stop it!” Peter raged, his fury struggling against the terror of helplessness. All Kramer had to do was touch her to compel her to use her Talent. He didn’t need to hurt her. “Why are you doing this, Phil? Just touch her. She’ll find him for you.”   
  
“Because you need to be taught not to keep what’s mine from me, Petey. Caffrey’s just a con man, a thief. Why do you care if he gets caught?”  
  
 _“You’re a bastard.”_  Peter heard Elizabeth hiss the words through her pain.  _“Neal’s a much better man than you’ll ever be. Peter will find you and when he does -.”_  
  
“Shut up!” The slap was loud and Elizabeth’s cry of pain cut through Peter.  
  
Kramer got back on the line, seemingly in control of himself. “You know, Petey, I could just use my Talent and make your wife hurt herself, but there’s something so satisfying when my fist connects with a woman’s soft flesh.”  
  
Peter was terrified, understanding finally just what a sadist Philip Kramer really was. “Put my wife back on,  _please_.” He wished like hell there was a way he could make his Talent work remotely and shut the son of a bitch down.  
  
“Very wise, Petey.”  
  
“El, hon. Do it. It’ll be  **alright** , I promise.” Peter tried to soothe her over the phone. “Trust me, okay.” He echoed her words from last night.   
  
“Elizabeth? Are you ready to help me?” Kramer’s voice was full of malice as Elizabeth moaned in pain. Peter was going to kill him.  
  
He tried to appeal to his old mentor. “Phil, she’ll tell you. Just…please…stop.”  
  
“Elizabeth?”  
  
“Please, El.”   
  
“Okay…” Elizabeth’s voice was small.  
  
“Good decision. I’m hanging up now, Petey. I’ll return your wife once I have my boy back.”  
  
“Phil! Wait!” The phone went dead. “Damn it!” He slammed the receiver down and grabbed his gun from the lockbox in his drawer.   
  
Peter burst out of his chair and barreled down the steps, shouting for Diana.   
  
“Diana, tell me you know where Caffrey is!”  
  
“No, Boss, we pulled surveillance last night. What’s wrong?”  
  
“Kramer has Elizabeth.”   
  
“Oh, God!” Diana quickly got her gun.  
  
“You’re with me, Diana. Jones! Coordinate backup. I’ll call you from the car.”  
  
Peter headed for the elevator, Diana right behind him.  
  
Fowler chose that moment to step in front of Peter.  
  
“Out of my way, Fowler.” Peter brushed past him.  
  
“What’s the hurry, Burke?” Fowler put a hand on his arm. Peter saw red.   
His fist made a satisfying thud as it landed on Fowler’s jaw. The man spun around and crashed to the floor.  
  
“Blake, get this trash out of my office!”   
  
“With pleasure,” Blake replied.  
  
The elevator doors opened and they were gone.  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
Peter’s house was empty when he and Diana arrived. Satchmo was locked in the laundry room and there was evidence of a struggle. A chair on its side, tea spilled over spreadsheets, a picture tilted on the wall.  
  
“The upstairs is clear, Peter.” Diana came down the steps. “They’re gone.”  
  
“I figured.” Peter was pacing, thinking. “Kramer hung up before El had a chance to tell him Neal’s location.”  
  
“Any idea where Caffrey is?”  
  
“No, but I bet I knew someone who does. Come on.” They left the house.   
  
They made it to June’s mansion in record time. The staff let them in and directed them upstairs to the balcony. Mozzie and June were seated at the table, a game of Parcheesi in progress. Peter was still vibrating but he knew he had to calm himself to talk to Neal’s friend.   
  
“Peter.” June rose to greet him. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I need to know where Neal is.” This was directed at Mozzie.  
  
“I don’t know of whom you speak.” Mozzie wiped his glasses with the napkin from the table.  
  
“Cut the crap, Mozzie. Yes I know who you are, and we’ll discuss all the invasion of privacy issues later,” Peter growled as the smaller man flinched. “Kramer has my wife and he’s after Neal. You need to tell me where he is.”   
  
Mozzie’s demeanor changed immediately. “Kramer’s got your wife?” he shouted. “Do you know what that man’s capable of?”  
  
“Yes. I’ve seen firsthand what Kramer can do.” Peter was losing what little patience he had left. “Where’s Neal?”  
  
“He’s at Wednesday.” The little man got up and hurried into the apartment, Peter trailing him.  
  
“Wednesday?”   
  
“One of my safe houses. I go there on Thursdays.” Mozzie rummaged around in one of the kitchen drawers. “Hah!” He pulled out an antique box. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Go where?”  
  
“To Wednesday. You think I’m just going to let you invade my space?” He looked appalled.  
  
“Fine. You stay behind us at all times, got it?”  
  
“You won’t hear me arguing.” They hurried down the stairs. “Oh, and Suit?”  
  
Startled by the nickname, Peter turned to him. The look on the other man’s face chilled him. “We’ll get your wife back. Neal, too. Then we’ll make Kramer disappear.”  
  
Peter could not have agreed more.  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
After threatening to insert a tracking chip into Mozzie’s ass, Peter finally was able to contact Jones with an address for the safe house.  
  
They pulled up in front of an old building in the Flower District. Jones and backup arrived moments later. Peter buckled on the Kevlar vest Jones gave him and tested the two-way transmitter.  
  
“Listen up, people. Kramer is not rational and he has Neal Caffrey and my wife.” Peter adjusted the vest and checked his gun. “Diana and I will go in first. The rest of you enter on my signal.” He looked at Mozzie. “Let’s go.”  
  
Mozzie took them in the back way. As they crept through the labyrinth of back rooms, Peter could hear voices getting louder.  
  
“Leave her alone, Kramer! I said I would go with you!” Neal’s voice was shouting in anger.  
  
“That may be true, Neal, but you need to learn what can happen when you don’t listen to me.”   
  
Peter heard Elizabeth cry out. It was all he could do not to go charging into the room, forgetting his Militia training. Diana put a hand on his arm.  
  
“Peter, look at me!” She hissed her words in his ear. “You’re not going to do either of them any favors if you go barreling in there like a rookie.”  
  
She was right. He took a deep breath and snuck a quick look around the corner.  
  
Elizabeth and Neal were on the floor, Kramer standing over them. He was holding a gun. Elizabeth was crying and Peter could see blood on her face where Kramer had hit her. Neal had put himself between her and Kramer, but Peter knew it was a thin shield if Kramer used his Talent.   
  
He stepped back and told Diana what he saw, pretending it was just another takedown. Trying to convince himself that it didn’t involve the two people he loved.  
  
“You stay here,” he told Mozzie.  
  
“Only have to tell me once, Suit.” The shorter man moved into the shadows.  
  
“Diana, on my mark.” Peter focused his thoughts and prepared to do his job. “Go!”  
  
The two of them slid into the room.  
  
“Drop the gun, Kramer!” Peter moved quickly to get a better vantage point.   
  
“Ah, Petey, so glad you could join us.” Kramer sounded like they were at a cocktail party instead of a kidnapping. “I was just explaining to Neal here that bad behavior does have its consequences.”  
  
“It’s over. Put the gun down.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Diana circle around to get nearer to Neal and Elizabeth.  
  
Peter stepped slowly closer to Kramer. “Give me the gun, Phil.” He spoke softly, coaxingly, his hand out like he was facing an unfamiliar dog. “We can talk about this back at the office.”  
  
“No.” The room stilled at the coldness in Kramer’s voice. “We’re not going to the office. Caffrey’s coming with me. He’s dangerous.”  
  
“He’s not, Phil. Neal’s not dangerous. Just put the gun down and we can talk about it.” Peter began to inch forward, stopping when Kramer pointed the gun at him.   
  
Kramer considered him, his eyes narrowing. He glanced over to where Elizabeth was crying softly into Neal’s shoulder.   
  
“You want to  _keep_  him.” He started to laugh. “You and Elizabeth. Oh, now that’s amusing.”  
  
“Phil -.”  
  
“Can’t you see that Caffrey’s taken you in, Petey? He’s beguiled you both with his looks and charm.”   
  
Kramer began waving the gun, using it to make his argument.  
  
“Petey, I’m just trying to protect you. He’ll ruin you. His kind always does. They lie, cheat, steal. He’ll make you think that everything is perfect until one day you wake up and it’s all gone. He’s just a con. They never change.”  
  
“Neal’s different.” Peter spoke quietly, hoping the tone in his voice would calm the other man. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.  
  
Kramer snorted. “You keep believing that. Believe that he’s not playing you. C’mon, Petey, you know better. You see criminals like him every day. You see what they do, how they destroy. Look at Elizabeth.” Kramer gestured to her tearstained face. “He did that – brought it on her. IT’S WHAT HE DOES!”   
  
“Don't buy it, Peter.” Neal’s voice was rough from screaming. “He doesn't care about you - this has nothing to do with protecting you. He wants me back in DC, back under his thumb because I can make him look good. He's used his Talent on me for years - it's how he works. And he likes making it hurt. Yeah - I'm a thief, but I won't be his puppet."  
  
"Be QUIET!” Kramer screamed. He grabbed Neal, forcing his Talent on the other man. "How can you believe a word that comes out of this man's mouth. He's a thief and a liar and he'll say anything to turn you against me." He shoved Neal away.   
  
"Neal's had nothing to do with my opinion of you, Phil. I've despised you and your methods for years.” Peter couldn’t help the anger that colored his voice. Calming himself, he held his hand out for the gun. “Neal’s a good man and has done nothing to you. Just give me the gun, Phil and we can work something out.”  
  
Breathing heavily, Kramer turned to Neal. “You have them fooled,” he whispered bitterly. “You think that they would really want someone like you?” Kramer spat the words out like they tasted vile. “Once they figure out what kind of man you really are, Petey will snap his fingers and you’ll be buried in some cell where you’ll be forgotten.”  
  
Peter watched in dismay as Neal flinched at Kramer’s words. He wanted to call out to him and tell him that Kramer was a liar. That they  _did_  want him.   
  
“When did you stop putting faith in people?”   
  
“When they stopped deserving it! Wake up, Petey! Open your eyes. You’re his mark. Caffrey’s run such a good game on you he’s got you thinking that you and Elizabeth will come out ahead in all this. He needs to go back to DC to face justice.”  
  
“This isn’t about justice anymore, Phil, and you know it.” Peter was disgusted. “Neal pissed you off and now you want to hurt him.”  
  
“Just control him!” Peter could tell that Kramer was becoming unhinged. “It’s the best for everyone.”  
  
“Phil, you don't have to do this.” Kramer was imploding and Peter needed to stop him.  
  
“I can’t let you take him, Petey.” Kramer pointed his gun at Peter again. “I’m sorry, I have to do this.” Icy fingers skittered down Peter’s spine as Kramer’s finger tightened on the trigger.   
  
Peter saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Neal had shifted away from Elizabeth and was preparing to launch himself at Kramer.  
  
“Neal, no!” Peter shouted but it was too late.  
  
Neal dove for Kramer’s gun, knocking it out of his hand. The two men became locked in a surreal embrace. Twisting and turning, they wrestled for dominance, looking for the moment of weakness that would signify success. Neal’s nose began bleeding as he and Kramer battled for the upper hand. Peter realized that each was using his Talent in an attempt to overcome the other.  
  
 _Shit!_  Peter couldn’t get a good shot while the two men fought. The only way to end this was to use his own Talent to block them. Dropping his gun, he charged onto the mix, praying that his gut was right. He seized their arms.  
  
And the world went white.  
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
“Peter…”  
  
He heard the voice but wasn’t sure where it was coming from. It wasn’t his mother – her voice was not as smooth as the one calling him. This voice was beautiful. A hand ran through his hair. It felt good, soothing. He turned his face towards it, seeking the warmth.  
  
“Peter, it’s time to wake up.”  
  
Maybe it  _was_  his mother. But it was too early. And he was so tired.   
  
“Five more minutes, mom,” he mumbled. The voice laughed quietly.   
  
“Come on, Peter, you need to open your eyes for me.”  
  
He wanted to see the face behind the beautiful voice. He opened his eyes to see Elizabeth sitting in a chair by his elbow.   
  
“El….”  
  
“Welcome back, hon.”  
  
“Where…”  
  
“You’re in the hospital.” She took his hand and kissed it. “You’ve been unconscious for three days.”  
  
“What happened?” Peter tried to piece things together, but the effort caused his head to hurt.   
  
“You remember the warehouse?” Elizabeth asked.  
  
“Bits of it. I remember Kramer and Neal. And you. They were fighting and I tried to stop them. There was a gun. Then I think I blacked out at that point. That’s all I can remember.”  
  
“We’re not completely sure what happened.” Diana’s voice startled him. He hadn’t noticed that she was in the room. “The little guy thinks that when you touched Neal and Kramer, you created a closed loop that short circuited your Talents and knocked you all out.”   
  
“Kramer?” Peter was afraid to hear the answer.  
  
“Alive, but he’s in a psychiatric center. His Talent got burned out permanently, plus they think it might have caused brain damage. The doctors are monitoring him, but they’ve said he will never be in any condition to leave.”  
  
Peter closed his eyes in relief. It was over.  
  
“Hon, are you okay? Do want us to leave so you can rest?”  
  
Peter opened his eyes so he could look at her. He gazed at Elizabeth’s face, seeing the bruises and the cut lip where Kramer had struck her.   
  
“Oh God, El. He hurt you.” He ached for what she’d been through. “I’m so sorry.”  _I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you._  
  
His face must have shown his thoughts because Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “Peter, I’m fine. You saved me. And Neal. Both of us.”   
  
“Neal? Where is he? Is he okay?” Peter started to get up. Elizabeth put her hand on his arm to calm him.  
  
“Neal is fine.” She chuckled. “In fact, he’s doing so well he managed to slip out of the hospital last night. Don’t worry, I’ve got an eye on him. He’s at June’s. Seems as though our evening kicked in my Talent permanently when it comes to him and now I always know where he is.”  
  
Peter smiled tiredly. Neal was not going to like it that Peter could check on him whenever he wanted.  
  
“Okay, Boss, I’m going to head out. I’ll tell everyone you’re awake.” Diana gave him a light hug. “They’ll be glad to know you’re back with us, especially Blake. Jones has been running him ragged.”  
  
“Bye, Di. Tell Jones to take it easy on Blake or I’ll give him permanent van duty.”  
  
“Will do.” She closed the door as she left.  
  
“I buzzed the doctor, so he should be here shortly. Are you thirsty?”   
  
“I could use some water.” Elizabeth poured a glass and handed it to him.  
  
The water soothed his dry throat. Handing it back to her, he rubbed his eyes wearily.  
  
“How can I be tired when I’ve been out for three days?” Peter knew he was complaining, but he hated hospitals. “When can I get out of here?’   
  
“You’re recuperating, hon. You and Neal both were unconscious when they brought you in. Your Talents are fine, but the doctors said you took the brunt and you need to rest. You’ll get to leave when they say it’s okay.”  
  
“How is Neal, really?” Peter was worried. He knew Kramer’s derision at the warehouse had made an impact and he was worried that Neal had taken the comments to heart.   
  
“I think he’s confused,” Elizabeth replied. “He won’t admit it, but what Kramer said hurt him.”  
  
“I know, El. His face -.” Peter never wanted Neal to look like that again. And he wouldn’t if Peter had anything to say about it. “I’m afraid he’s going to run.”  
  
“And he might. But I’ll always know where he is and you’ll always catch him.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “I have faith in you. Neal will too. You just have to show him.”  
  
“And how do I do that, exactly?” He raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
“Just be you. The man that loves Neal Caffrey.”  
  
“And what if he says no?”  
  
Elizabeth leaned in and kissed him on his nose. “Then I guess you’ll have to build Satchmo an addition to his doghouse.”   
  
  


@*@*@*@*@

  
  
  
It was after midnight when Neal slipped into Peter’s room. Peter was sleeping, the soft lights casting his face in shadow.  
  
Neal watched him breathe, his chest rising and falling slowly. It amazed him how quickly he had grown to love the man in front of him. Which made the choices he had to make all the more difficult.  
  
He wanted to stay, but Kramer was right. He wasn’t good for Peter or Elizabeth and it was stupid for him to think otherwise. Peter was good at what he did and having Neal around would destroy everything he’d managed to achieve.  
  
Neal gazed at Peter, drinking in all the lines and curves of his face, memorizing everything so he could recall the memories of happiness that had slipped through his fingers.   
  
He turned to go. He and Mozzie had to make plans to leave.  
  
“So are you going to make it a habit of coming to visit me in the middle of the night?”   
  
Neal stilled. He turned around and saw Peter struggling to sit up. Hurrying to the bed, he helped him adjust the height. Once Peter was comfortable, Neal pulled up a chair to sit next to him.  
  
They regarded each other in silence. Neal could see the tiredness in Peter’s eyes which he was sure mirrored his own.  
  
Finally Peter spoke. “You’re thinking of leaving, aren’t you?” Peter wasn’t asking him a question. “That’s why you showed up now.”  
  
“Peter -.” Neal felt helpless. “Peter, I’m a con.”  
  
“You’re a man first, Neal,” Peter replied. “You have integrity, no matter what your life choices may be. And I’m proud to call you my friend.”   
  
Neal’s chest closed up. Mozzie was the only one who ever called him a friend. Until Peter. And Peter was too good of a man to waste his life on Neal.  
  
“I’ve - I’ve got to go.” Neal stood up, shoving the chair back. He walked quickly to the door, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He had just reached the entrance when Peter’s voice cut through his anguish.  
  
“You know El can find you all the time now.”  
  
Neal froze, his hand touching the door handle.   
  
“Her Talent is always active when it comes to you.” Peter continued. “She can find you wherever you go. And you know my wife, Neal - El will have no problem telling me where you are.”  
  
Neal knew she would. A part of him – a big part – wanted her to. He wanted the certainty that someone cared enough to know where he was.  
  
Peter’s next words stunned him.  
  
“Neal, if you run, I  _will_  catch you." Peter paused, waiting for the words to sink in. "And when I do, I will prove to you that you are worth us loving you. Kramer is wrong, Neal. And I promise that Elizabeth and I will do everything in our power to make you see that.”  
  
Peter’s words wound around the hurting places in his soul, filling in the broken bits until he was almost whole.  
  
“Please turn around so I can see you.” Peter’s voice was gentle. Neal let go of the door handle and turned to look at him.  
  
“I can’t force you to stay, Neal. It’s got to be your choice. But before you make your decision, I want you to have something.”   
  
Peter reached into the nightstand and pulled something out of the drawer. He held it out to Neal with a soft smile.   
  
Neal walked over to take it from Peter. His breath caught when he saw what it was. Peter had handed him the origami crane.   
  
A bit crumpled, one wingtip torn. Neal couldn't believe that Peter was carrying it.   
  
"I know it’s only been a couple of days, but I've kept it with me since the night you gave it to me. Look at the left wing."  
  
Neal saw the words that he had penned the night he'd put the crane beneath Peter’s pillow. Below them was something in Peter’s handwriting.   
  
 _We love you. Please stay._  
  
"Peter -."  
  
"Neal, just listen. We don't care what you did before. It doesn't matter.  _You_  matter. We love you." Peter’s voice got small. “ _I_  love you. Please. Stay with us."   
  
As Neal watched emotions run the gamut across Peter’s face, he knew what his answer would be. Sliding his hand behind Peter’s head, he leaned in and brushed his lips against his lover’s mouth.  
  
“Okay,” he whispered, resting his head against Peter’s. “I’ll stay.”  
  
“Oh thank God!” Peter collapsed in relief. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no. El threatened to make me sleep with Satchmo if I couldn’t convince you to stay.”  
  
Neal laughed. “You could always have gone on the road with me and Mozzie.”  
  
“Actually, that’s a perfect lead-in to something I wanted to ask you about.” For the first time that evening, Peter looked uncertain. “How would you feel about working with me?”  
  
“You want me to work for the Militia?” Neal was stunned. “Is that even legal?”  
  
“You wouldn’t be working for the Militia – you’d be working with me as a special consultant.” Peter had a look on his face that Neal could only compare to a little kid asking his best friend if he could come sleep over.  
  
“You can do that?”  
  
“I’m the Imperator. I can do anything.” Neal counted to three before Peter broke and started laughing. “Seriously, though. We can figure out the details later if you’re interested.”  
  
“What would I be doing?” The offer sounded very tempting.  
  
“Cleaning up New York from the unprofessional criminals.” Peter’s tone was dry.  
  
“I can run cons?” The thought of running government-sanctioned cons was a thrilling one, he had to admit.   
  
“The government doesn’t run cons. They run stings.”   
  
“Same thing.”   
  
“No, they’re really not.”  
  
‘Actually -,” Neal began.  
  
“Neal…” Peter’s voice held a warning, but it was tempered with a smile.  
  
“So I’ll be running stings. I could live with that.”  
  
“You’ll do it?”   
  
“Yeah. I’ll do it.” Peter’s smile was so blinding that Neal couldn’t help himself. He captured Peter’s mouth with his. This time the kiss didn’t just mean yes, it meant forever.  
  
Breaking apart so they could breathe, Peter started chuckling. “So…I’ve been wondering something. Now that you’re going to be legit and all – tell me about the Antioch Manuscripts.”  
  
“Well…” Neal smiled as he settled on the bed next to Peter. “It all came down to carrier pigeons…”  
  
  
  


_The End_

 


End file.
